


a city that resembles us

by northernsdownpour



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Rewrite, F/F, M/M, No Period Typical Homophobia, because I don't wanna, denton is a father figure to kath, plus some new scenes to make things make sense, the jacobs family are a gem, this is basically the musical + sarah & denton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 48,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26116606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/northernsdownpour/pseuds/northernsdownpour
Summary: In which Sarah falls in love at first sight, Katherine's chance at breaking out of the social pages might also be her chance for love, and Jack and David co-parent the entirety of Lower Manhattan newsies. Oh, and there's a strike.OR: a newsies canon rewrite where i take things i loved from both the movie and the musical while i scream javid and newsbians rights
Relationships: David Jacobs/Jack Kelly, Sarah Jacobs/Katherine Plumber Pulitzer
Comments: 60
Kudos: 104





	1. overture

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to my quarantine obsession!!!! i probably watched newsies every single day for the past month and i finally got to watching the movie and !! sarah & denton are gifts and 92sies spot is a gem. so yeah, i cherry-picked things from the movie and inserted it in the musical canon, so it's mostly musical with a few scenes from 92sies as well as scenes bridging some plot points. it was supposed to be around 30k max but it got longer so *shrug*
> 
> this is so self-indulgent i'm -- i hope you enjoy it!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarah's eyes catches a pretty, well-dressed woman walking past her as she waits for her factory to open and David, try as he might, can't keep his mind off that boy with the blue shirt who helped him at the distribution window. You know how it is with the Jacobs siblings.

Mornings in the Jacobs’ household had always been chaotic, but Sarah thought this one in particular was more so than others.

“Sarah?” Her brother David’s voice was laced with worry. Today was his and Les’s first day at selling papers and though David tried to be optimistic, Sarah knew how nervous his brother was.

Sarah understood. Her nerves were a wreck on her first day at the garment factory two years ago. She paused in tying up her hair, looking away from her reflection in their sole mirror to look at David quickly. “Almost finished, David!”

In that quick glance, Sarah saw David, wearing the cleanest clothes he had. On his neck was a tie he borrowed from Papa. Beside him was Les, frowning as Mama fretted over him. He was nine, and his moods swung from hating the attention Mama poured on him to basking in it.

“Les, stick close to your brother, you hear me?” she said. Her hands smoothed down the front of Les’s shirt. “And don’t give David too much trouble.” 

Sarah turned back to the mirror. She was almost finished.

“And, David, don’t let Les out your sight for too long,” Mama said. “I know it’s not ideal for two newsies to sell near each other but --”

“Yes, Mama,” Davey said meekly. “I’ll keep an eye on Les.”

“I’m done!” Sarah said. She bounded to her Papa, who was sitting on the sofa. His bandaged leg reproached Sarah as she knelt down to kiss his cheek. “We’ll be going now, Pa.”

“Take care, you three,” Papa said. “It will only be until my leg heals and you two--” He looked at Les and David -- “will go back to school.”

“Yes, Papa,” David, who came closer, said. He bent down to hug Papa and Les followed suit. Mama watched with a wistful smile as they all huddled on the floor, hugging each other.

“We better get going,” Sarah said when Les untangled himself from Papa’s arms. David nodded and with a few kisses from Mama, the three of them were out their tenement and onto the streets of New York.

New York mornings saw all kinds of people out on the street. Les was walking a few steps ahead of them as they passed by working kids and socialites. Beside Sarah, David kept quiet. His hands smoothed out his tie, his shirt, his pants.

“Hey,” Sarah said. David turned to her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” was his swift reply. Sarah decided not to push him. The last thing he needed today was added troubles. Sarah knew that even without her pointing it out, David’s brains would be supplying all the ways this job could go wrong.

On the horizon, the garment factory was fast approaching. A group of women workers huddled on the sidewalk, talking amongst themselves. 

Sarah stopped. “Well, here’s me,” she said. David and Les stopped too. “Be safe, you too. Remember what Ma said.” Sarah directed this to Les, who frowned but nodded. Then she turned to David. “Be safe. Go get ‘em.” It was an inside joke, what David told Sarah on her first day of work.

David smiled. “Yeah. Be safe, too. See you later.”

Sarah waved and she watched as her brothers disappeared around the corner. Only then did she join the women. Garment workers, especially women garment workers, were a mixed bunch. Aside from other Jewish women, this particular factory also employed Irish, Italian, and other immigrants.

The pay wasn’t good; it wasn’t even enough to keep a family afloat. But money’s money and Sarah and the other women would take anything to slowly starving at night.

Agnes Zimmerman was the first to notice her. “That Les and David?” Agnes asked. The Zimmermans lived on the same tenement as the Jacobses. That, plus working together made Sarah and Agnes tight friends. 

Sarah nodded. “It’s their first day. David was nervous; you know how he is.”

Understanding lit up Agnes’s face. “And your Pop? Is he doing better?”

“A little,” Sarah admitted. “He’s still in pain but Mrs. Vandenburg’s tea helped.” Mrs. Vandenburg from the floor below owned teas and herbs that could heal every possible hurt.

Agnes opened her mouth to talk but a whistle blew, signifying Mr. Cooper’s arrival. Agnes looped her arm through Sarah’s and together, they fell in line.

It usually took Mr. Cooper a second to fumble for the keys of the factory and another one to figure out which key fit in which door despite him working here for years, so Sarah’s eyes wandered around. The factory was only a few blocks away from the Newsie Square and the businesses, which meant businessmen walked briskly past the women, barely giving them a glance.

One pair caught Sarah’s eyes.

A young man, decked in a light brown suit and hat, turned the corner where David and Les had disappeared to. His suit was clean and ironed perfectly, one of the heirs to a New York business around the corner by the looks of it. But it wasn’t him that Sarah was entranced to. It was the girl in his arms.

To say she was pretty was an understatement. Her ginger hair fell in waves down her back and the quality of her light violet dress indicated she was just as rich as the boy she was with. They were deep in conversation. When they were close enough, as though she sensed Sarah’s gaze, she looked up.

Electricity surged through Sarah.

Her brown eyes were wide and just as beautiful as she was. They stayed locked in that gaze just as the girl passed by Sarah. Both their heads turned to follow each other, like something tangible blossomed when their eyes met.

Agnes nudged her. “Sarah...” She was holding the line.

Against her wishes, Sarah broke off the eye contact. She followed the women up the factory but just before she entered the doors, she couldn’t resist herself. She craned her neck to look for the girl.

She was already looking at Sarah.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

There were too many boys on the Newsie Square.

Logically, David knew what he was getting into when they had to go sell papers. He saw dozens of newsies on the street at any given time, but seeing them and being one of them were two different things. David was finding that out now.

“Papes!” A man from the distribution window yelled. “Papes for the newsies. Line up.”

The newsies surged forward and David grabbed Les’s hand before he plunged into the sea of boys. He pushed Les behind his back.

Up front, a boy in a shockingly blue shirt leaned against the window. The boy had his back to David, and so he couldn’t see his face. “Mornin, Weasel, you miss me?” he said. Even from here, David could hear the cockiness oozing from this boy’s voice.

_Is the man’s name really Weasel?_ David thought.

“The name’s _Weisel_ ,” the man said. That made more sense.

“Ain’t that what I said?” the blue boy said. “I’ll take the usual.”

“Hundred papes for the wise guy. Next!” 

Another boy stopped at the window. When he turned, David could see a cigar on his mouth. “How’s it goin’, Weasel?”

Wiesel sighed. “At least call me Mister.”

“I’ll call you sweetheart if you spot me fifty papes, huh?” The newsies exploded in laughter.

Wiesel leaned in dangerously close to the boy. “Drop your cash and move along.”

The boy rolled his eyes and slapped a coin down. “Well, what ever happened to romance?” 

The line moved and the boy with crutches ahead of David was now on the window. “Good morning, Mr. Wiesel.”

Wiesel snorted, pleased with the boy’s politeness. “Fifty papes for Crutchie,” he said to the boy he’s with, who handed Crutchie his stacks of paper. 

Wiesel saw David. “Hey, look, at this! A new kid.”

Les peeped out from David’s back. “I’m new too!” 

David tried to push him back as the boy with the cigar looked at Les. “Don’t worry kid, it rubs right off!”

Trying to keep his nerves stable, David turned to Wiesel. “I’ll take twenty newspapers, please.”

Wiesel turned to the boy with him “Twenty papes for the new kid.”

David made a grab for the papers but the boy held it back. “Hey, hey, let’s see the dime.”

“Well I’ll pay you when I sell them,” David said. Derisive laughter filled the square.

“Come on. Cash up, boy,” Wiesel said.

“But whatever I don’t sell, you buy back, right?” David asked. Another round of laughter followed.

“Oh, certainly,” Wiesel said sarcastically. “And every time you lose a tooth, I put a penny under your pillow. This kid’s a riot.”

Conceding defeat, David slid down the coin to the boy. He waited for Les to finish before they walked to the corner. David counted Les’s paper, and then his.

His stack was nineteen.

He counted it again, hoping he was wrong. He was not. They gave him nineteen. 

David steeled himself. He turned to the window. “Sorry, excuse me, I paid for twenty, but you gave me nineteen.”

Uneasy silence fell on the square. David’s eyes glanced, quickly, at the newsies and he caught the blue boy looking straight at him with a puzzled expression. He barely had the time to think if he’d made a mistake when the boy strode forward and snatched the papers from David’s hands. His arms were tanned and scarred compared to David’s pale ones.

David’s hands felt empty without it.

Wiesel turned to the newsies. “See how nice I was to the new kid,” he said. “What do I get for my civility? Ungrounded accusations.”

“I just want what I paid for,” Davey said.

The boy inside the distribution window slapped the glass with a paper. “He said beat it.”

“New kid’s right, Weasel, you gave him nineteen.” Blue boy walked closer to Wiesel, every step mocking and confident. “I’m sure it’s an honest mistake, on account of how Oscar can’t count to twenty with his shoes on.”

Oscar scowled. If there wasn’t a glass between the two, he’d have lunged at the blue boy. The boy only laughed and handed David his papers without even looking at him. There was a certain careless charm about him, and judging by the way the other newsies looked at him, David surmised he’s the leader. 

Wiesel handed David a paper, scowling. “Here’s ya paper. Take a hike.”

“Give the new kid fifty more papes,” blue boy said, slamming down a coin.

“I don’t want more papes,” David said.

Blue boy shot David a look. “What kind of newsie don’t want more papes?”

The newsies murmured their assent. David avoided their stares.

David grabbed Les’s hand. “I’m no charity case! I don’t even know you.”

He started to walk out but Les broke off from his grasp. “His name is Jack.” He grinned, incredibly proud of himself.

David’s eyebrows furrowed. How did Les know that?

Crutchie walked closer to David. “Yeah, this here is the famous Jack Kelly! He once escaped jail on the back of Teddy Roosevelt's carriage. It made all the papes!” 

Jack grinned. He turned to Les. “Hey, how old are you, kid?” he asked.

Les puffed out his chest. “I’m ten!” He caught David’s stare. “Almost,” he corrected.

Jack jabbed him on the chest lightly. “Well if anybody asks, say you’re seven.” Les nodded solemnly. ”Younger sells more papes, and if you wanna be partners --” 

“Who said we want a partner?” David said.

Crutchies looked at him like he was stupid. “Selling with Jack is the chance of a lifetime. If you learn from him, you learn from the best.”

“Well if he’s the best, then what’s he need with me?” 

Jack answered, “‘Cause you got a little brother and I don’t. With that puss, we can easily sell a thousand papes a week. Hey, look sad, kid.” This he said to Les and Les obliged. He pouted the way he did when Mama asked him to do housework. 

Jack laughed and Davey couldn’t stop the smile spreading from his face. “We’re gonna make millions!”

Les stretched out an arm to David. “This is my brother, David. I’m Les.”

“Nice to meet you, Davey." Jack waved his hands about, barely giving David a glance. "My two bits come off the top, and we split everything else 70-30.” Jack started to turn to the bespectacled boy beside him, the conversation apparently over.

“50- 50!" Les said. "You wouldn’t try and pull a fast one on a little kid.”

Jack’s mouth fell open and the other kids snickered at Les. David had half a mind to snatch Les aside when Jack said, “60-40, and that’s my final offer.”

Les looked at David, who shrugged. “Deal.”

To David’s absolute horror, Jack spat on his palm and held it out in a handshake. Les happily followed suit. They shook hands.

No one else seemed to find this odd, but still David piped up. “That’s disgusting.”

Laughter erupted again but it wasn’t as scornful as the ones before. Jack turned to David, grinning. “That’s just business.”

The other newsies were still not finished buying their papers and David took the chance. He approached Jack, who was already turning away. “Thank you,” he said and Jack twisted to look at him. 

Jack waved his hand. “That’s nothin’,” he said. “Us newsies gotta stick together.”

“Why did you do it?” David asked.

“I told ya, you got a little brother and I don’t.”

“I don’t think that’s it,” David said quietly. 

Jack regarded him. “Anyone ever told you you never shut up?” he said, but there was no animosity behind the words.

“Once or twice,” David said.

Jack’s eyes swept over David from head to foot, and he resisted the urge to cross his arms over his check. “How old are you, Davey?” 

David tried not to bristle at the nickname. “Seventeen.”

“Hey, same as me!” Jack said, and David smiled at his enthusiasm. “And how long have you been sellin’ papes?”

David fell quiet. Jack waited for his answer. “I haven’t yet.”

“That’s why.” Jack said. “You’re new, and you look like you could need the help.”

David laughed lightly. “That obvious?”

A smile was on Jack’s face again. “Between the talking to Weasel and your clean pressed clothes, yeah, Davey, it’s obvious.”

“Thanks.” 

“And I told you, it ain’t no problem.” Jack nodded at him before he climbed up the wagon. “Newsies! Get to the streets! The sun is up, the headline stinks, this pape’s ain’t gonna sell itself!”

David laughed as Jack caught his eyes, winked, and jumped off. “Come on, get your brother. We got a long day ahead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the first chapter! i'm already halfway finished with the fic so the updates will be consistent. every friday. in the meantime, my (ya lit) tumblr is [helnik](http://helnik.tumblr.com), say hello and yell at me or smth. comments and kudos add to my life force.


	2. the view's better here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack sees two beautiful people in the span of a day. Annoying said beautiful people half to death is synonymous to flirting, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aight, i'm throwing the schedule out the window. i'm so so close to finishing this fic i might update it twice a week or smth

There was a reason this was Jack’s selling spot. From here, he could hear and get the boys from their own spots. Race and Crutchie were yelling from a few blocks over. Specs was running the avenue down. Jack was turning the corner when he hear the new voice hawking the headline.

"Paper! Paper! Evening paper here!"

Davey. His voice was easy to pick out from the crowd of shouting newsies; he clipped his New York accent as though he's cutting off a loose thread. Jack managed to get a glimpse of the man Davey's trying to sell the pape to before he disappeared off the corner.

Jack laughed. "Sing him to sleep, why don't you?" Without waiting for a reply, he grabbed the paper from Davey's hand and yelled, "Extra, extra! Terrified flight from a burning inferno. You heard it right here!"

A man walking past took the paper. Jack threw the coin at Davey's direction.

"You just made that up," Davey said, pocketing the coin.

"No, I didn't," Jack said. "I said he heard it right here and he did." 

He grinned just to annoy him further. He was rewarded with an exasperated stare. It was amazing, the way Davey's face showed every single emotion on his face. Earlier today, it was terror but the steel in his eyes when he corrected Wiesel and Oscar made Jack step in and help him. Hard not to help a guy who talked despite being terrified.

Not to mention he was a looker, too. Pretty boy who can’t keep his mouth shut -- now that’s intriguing.

"My father taught us not to lie," Davey said. Stubborn, too!

"Well, mine taught me not to starve," Jack retorted.

Les ran in before Davey could reply. He held up his empty newspaper bag. "Just sold my last paper!"

Davey dug into his bag, pulling a lone newspaper. "I got one more," he said.

Les grabbed it. "Hey, give it here!"

Before Jack and Davey could react, Les approached a well-dressed woman, coughing into his hand and looking up at her.

"Buy a pape from a poor, orphan boy?" He coughed once again.

Jack grinned as the woman visibly melted. She put her gloved hand on her mouth. "Oh, you dear thing. Of course, I'll take a newspaper. Here's a dime."

Les kept up the act until the woman disappeared around the corner. Once he was sure she’s gone, he ran towards them, chest puffed. He was holding the dime up, staring at it in awe.

Jack laughed. "Born to the breed!" he said gleefully, reaching out to clap Les in the shoulder. Les preened.

"This is so much better than school!" he cried.

In an instant, Davey stood beside his brother. "Don't even think it," he said. Les handed Davey the money. "Once Papa's back to work, we're back to school."

"Say, how 'bout we divvy up the money?" Jack said. "We’ll grab you some chow, find some place for you to spend the night." It's tradition whenever there's new kids -- Jack found them food and places to stay the night. Sometimes they went to Kloppmann for boarding but there were more boarding houses around Manhattan that might suit their needs.

To Jack's surprise, Davey shook his head. "We gotta go home. Our folks will be waiting."

Jack’s eyebrows rose."You got folks?" he said without thinking, but he already knew the answer. Their clean, ironed clothes gave them away. It was old, their clothes, and well worn but there were no rips, no stains, no holes in need of stitching.

Of course they've got folks.

"Doesn't everyone?" Les said, looking up at his brother.

"Hey," Davey said, clasping Les's shoulder lightly. Then to Jack: "Our dad tangled with a delivery truck on the job. Messed up his leg bad, so they laid him off. That’s how we have to find work."

Jack nodded absently. "Yeah, yeah… sure, that makes sense. Hey, too bad about your dad," he added.

Davey removed his hand on Les's shoulder and stepped closer to Jack. Jack managed to stop himself from stepping back. Davey was close, too close, and he could see everything in Davey's eyes. He did not look.

"Well, how about comin’ home with us for dinner?" Davey asked. "Our folks would be happy to have you."

Les moved so he's beside his brother. "Ma's a great cook!"

Jack was already shaking his head. "Thanks for the invite, but, ah, I just remembered I got plans with a fella. He’s probably waitin’ on me right now."

Les looked at the street and pointed at someone behind Jack. "Is that the guy you’re meetin’?"

Jack turned around to look at whoever Les was pointing at, thinking it was one of the boys. Skittery or Specs or Mush, given the direction Les was pointing. Instead it was a beefy man in a black uniform. Jack's heart stuttered in his chest.

"Kelly!" Synder yelled.

Jack grabbed the wrist of the closest brother. It was Davey. "Run for it! Go, go!"

When it came to Snyder, all Jack could do was run. He ran, pulling Davey along with him. They wove through alleyways and shortcuts, running through clothes hanging on wires and Jack only had one destination in mind.

From behind him, he could hear Davey panting, Les shouting, and far too close for Jack’s liking, Snyder’s yells.

The alleyways opened to the theater district and Jack dashed to the one building he knew he was welcome in. He released his hold on Davey's wrist to push open a steel door before ushering the brothers in. Synder's shouts from outside the door vanished.

Jack leaned over one of the props, panting. Davey kept a hold on Les, bent over as he took in breaths.

"Does someone wanna tell me why I’m runnin’?" Davey's accent was thick now. "I got no one chasing me. Who was that guy?" he asked Jack.

Jack panted. "That there was Snyder the Spider," he spat. “A real sweetie. He runs a jail for underage kids called the Refuge. The more kids he brings in, the more the city pays him. The problem is, all the money goes straight into his own pocket. Do yourself a favor and stay clear of Snyder and the refuge, alright?"

Les nodded solemnly as a familiar voice from the backstage called, "Hey, you there, shoo! No kids allowed in the theater!"

Jack plastered on a grin. "Not even me, Miss Medda?"

Medda emerged from the shadows, beaming as she took notice of Jack. Jack ran towards her and gave her a hug. "Jack Kelly, man of mystery." Medda, already in her costume, patted his cheek all mother-like."Where you been keeping yourself, kid?"

"Never too far from you, Miss Medda." He gave her dress an appreciative look. Medda swatted him playfully but laughed all the same. He faced Davey and Les."Boys, may I present Miss Medda Larkin, the greatest star on the Bowery today. She also owns the joint."

"The only thing I own is the mortgage," Medda said. She smiled at both of them. "Pleasure, gents."

Davey, bless his soul, actually bowed down. "A pleasure." It took the both of them a moment to notice Les was facing the other way, mouth open as he stared at two of the Bowery Beauties. Davey reached over to tug at his brother. "What’s wrong with you?"

"Are you blind? She’s got no clothes on!" Les exclaimed.

Davey straightened up and stepped between Les and the Beauties. "That’s her costume!"

"But I can see her legs!"

Medda approached the both of them. "Step out of his way so's he can get a better look. Theater is not only entertaining, it’s educational." Jack laughed as the Beauties blew Les a kiss before they exited. "Got your picture, kid?"

Les nodded. He tugged Davey's sleeve once, received a nod, and roamed the backstage, looking at props and backgrounds.

Medda turned to Davey. "What's your name?"

"I'm David Jacobs," Davey introduced himself. "That’s my brother Les."

Jack approached both of them. "Miss Medda, we got a little situation on the street. You mind if we hide out here a while?"

"Where better to escape trouble than a theater?" Medda said. "Is Snyder after you again?"

Jack nodded. Les walked up to Jack.

"Hey, Jack, did you really escape jail on the back of Teddy Roosevelt’s carriage?"

Davey was already shaking his head before Jack could answer. "What would the governor be doing at a juvenile jail?"

"So happens," Jack said, "he was running for office and he wanted to show he cared about orphans and such. So while he got his mug in the pape, I got my butt in the back seat and off we rode together." He emphasized the last four words with a jab at Les's chest. By now, Jack didn't even have to look up to know Davey's sighing his sigh again.

"You really know the governor?" Les asked.

"He don’t," Medda interrupted, "But I do." Jack caught Davey's skeptical eyes and cocked his eyebrows. A thrill ran down Jack's spine as Davey gave Jack a small smile.

"Say, Jack, when you got time, I want you to paint me some more of these backdrops!" Medda gestured to the background Jack painted a few weeks ago. The Jacobses ran to look at the painting closer. "This last one you did is a doozy. Folks love it! And things have been going so well I can actually pay."

Jack raised a hand to dismiss it. "Hey, I couldn’t take your money, Miss Medda."

From where the painting stood, Les piped up, "You pictured that?

"Your friend is quite an artist." The pride in Medda's voice was palpable.

Jack’s face heated up. Medda loved complimenting him about his work. "Take it easy. It’s a bunch of trees." 

Davey walked closer to Jack. "You’re really good," he said, awe evident. Jack tried to ignore the head spreading from his stomach and failed. When he faced Davey, his eyes were wide open, his mouth pulled in a smile. Jack's mouth dried up. He was really pretty, Jack thought.

"That boy’s got natural aptitude," Medda said.

"Jeez," Les said earnestly, "I never knew no one with an aptitude."

At that moment, a stage manager ran to Medda. "Medda, you’re on!"

"I am? How am I doing?" Medda cracked up laughing.

The stage manager stared blankly at Medda, who turned and faced Jack and Davey. Both of them laugh good-naturedly. After the laughter, Medda said, "Boys, lock the door, and stay all night. You’re with Medda now."

As soon as Medda left, Jack turned to Davey. "Come on, I'll give you the best seat in this theater."

Before he could think about it, Jack grabbed Davey's hand and pulled him towards the wing. The light was turned down, ensuring Medda's dramatic entrance.

The announcer’s voice echoed loudly across the theater. "Please welcome the star of the show…Miss Medda Larkin!"

The spotlight turned on, the white harsh light making sure Medda’s the only one in attention as the opening notes of her song started. The wing where Jack, Davey, and Les stood basked in a softer light, the remnant of Medda's spotlight.

Jack turned to face Davey, a smile on his lips and a quip on his tongue but that disappeared almost immediately as soon as his eyes settled on Davey's face. The light washed Davey's face in harsh shadows, turning his already pale skin even brighter. Upon closer inspection, Jack noticed he's got freckles. His eyes, which Jack thought was a shade of brown of sorts, was moss green.

As if feeling Jack's gaze, Davey turned to Jack. "What?"

The way the light and shadows played on Davey's face made Jack itch for a pen and paper. "Nothing. You enjoyin' it?"

Davey grinned and nodded before facing Medda again. Jack's mouth dried up. It wasn't the small smile Davey gave him but a full grin. It hit Jack harder than any grin he's received before and damn near blinded him more than Medda's spotlight did.

Medda's performance slipped through Jack's fingers. All he could remember of was Davey's face, his grin, his eyes.

The thunderous applause shocked Jack back to reality. He clapped just as loudly as everyone in the room, and rushed in to hug Medda once more.

Davey and Les came forward, sporting grins. "That was a great performance, Miss Medda," Davey said.

Medda leaned in to say to Jack, "Your boy's polite." But before Jack could object, Medda already faced Davey and beamed. "Thank you so much, boys. Say, are you staying?"

"I--" Davey started but Les tugged his hand.

"Please?" Bless the kid, he's pouting.

Davey relented. "One performance." He lifted his eyes to Jack. "How about you? Are you staying?"

"Yeah." And at this, Jack craned his neck to look at the crowd and saw a familiar face sitting on the press box. It took a minute to recognize her: it was the girl with the lilac dress. This morning, when Romeo disastrously tried to flirt with her and the boy she's with. It's too dark to see her properly, but Jack could make out a notebook leaning against the railing.

"There's someone I know out there," he told Davey. "You mind if we meet after the song?"

Davey shook his head and Medda showed them the way to their seats. Jack grabbed an old newspaper lying about before he climbed up the box.

"Hello again," Jack said. The girl almost startled out of her seat. Up close the girl looks pretty, ginger hair and dark eyes and pretty clothes, though her mouth was pulled down in irritation.

Irritating beautiful people was Jack's forte today.

"It's a private box," the girl told him.

Jack grinned."You shoulda locked the door. Twice in one day, think it's fate?"

"Go away, I’m working."

Jack came closer and the scowl on the pretty girl's face deepened. "Oh, a workin’ girl, huh? Doin’ what?"

"Reviewing the show for the  _ New York Sun _ ."

"Hey, I work for  _ The World _ !" he said. The girl didn't seem impressed.

"Somewhere out there, someone cares. Go tell them!"

When Jack peered down at the audience, he could make out Davey and Les. They sat in one of the empty boxes below, just in Jack's line of sight.

Jack sat down, putting the newspaper on his lap and pulling out his pencil. "The view's better here."

Jack felt more than heard the girl’s scoff but whatever retort on her lips died. "Just be quiet," she told him

Jack winked at her. "Not a peep." He mimed zipping his mouth. "Name's Jack Kelly, by the way. You got a name?"

"'Not a peep'," the girl imitated him. "I'm Katherine. Pu--Plumber."

Jack imitated her stutter. "What's the matter, ain't you sure?" he said.

"It's my byline," Katherine said. "The name I publish under," she clarified, at Jack's blank look.

"Well, nice to meet you, Kath." He received a little nod from Katherine.

Jack left Katherine to her business as he did his own. The press box at Medda's theater had enough light to let the reporter see whatever she jotted down. Jack made do with the light and let his mind wander as his hands moved across the page.

Two sketches, one bigger than the other. A quick study.

It was only when he saw the Jacobs brothers start leave did he realize what he drew. The smaller figure was Katherine, a little quick and a little messy but it was Katherine. Her mouth was ajar, her eyes focused on the performance below. She looked every bit as beautiful on page as she was in person.

The bigger one, with the shadows and the smile, was Davey on the wings of the theater. 

He quickly left the newspaper on the floor before scrambling to get down. He caught Katherine's eyes, doffed his hat in goodbye, and climbed down off. He had a feeling this wasn’t the last of his meeting with Katherine Plumber.

As Jack's feet hit the ground, Les's voice rang in the air. "There he is!"

Jack walked closer to the brothers. "You ready to go?"

Davey was staring at him, expression unreadable. His face cleared up before Jack could even think about what that meant. "Yeah. Miss Medda was preparing for her next performance, but we did say goodbye."

Jack hit Davey's shoulders with his, laughing. “Come on, your folks’ll probably be waitin’.” When they were out on the streets, Jack faced Davey. "So, you like that?"

"Oh, I loved that," Davey said and Jack grinned at the earnestness of his voice. "I loved it. It was great. Hey." He lowered his voice. "I saw you, up in a box. That, uh, that your girl?" He winced at the end, like the words pained.

"Kath? No!" Jack laughed and hesitantly Davey smiled as well. "I met her this morning, just dropped by to say hi."

"You stayed there throughout the whole song."

"Light's better there." Jack shrugged. "To draw."

"You drew? Where is it?"

Davey never shut up, did he? Jack shook his head. "I left it up there."

"Why?"

"I used an old pape. Why’re you so insistent on seeing the drawing.."

"I haven't seen any of your drawings yet," Davey said, almost defensively.

"The next time I draw, I'll show it to you first thing."

Before Davey could properly reply, shouts and crashes could be heard from the street over. Davey grabbed Les's hand as the three of them ran to the other side.

The first thing Jack noticed was the fire. Torches were raised in the air and dozens of voices yelled in the streets. Jack stepped back as a man ran past them, two others hot on his heels. It was a flurry of hands and fists and blood. Jack shook.

A riot. From the trolley workers.

Jack's hand swept behind him -- to hold Davey or to sweep Les out of the way, he didn't know but Davey already had Les behind him, hand curled tightly on his arm. One hand was reaching up to Jack. It held on his wrist.

"Hey, why don't we go to our place and divvy up?" Davey was saying. He was leading them out of the commotion. "You can meet my folks."

Fire and fists and blood flashed through Jack's mind. "I -- no. No, I best be goin'. The fellas will be waiting."

Davey stared at him, eyebrows down in concern. A stark difference from the irritated glances he's been sending him all day. "You okay?"

Jack nodded.

"For sure?"

Jack nodded again.

Davey didn't look too keen to leave yet but Les's eyes were closing on its own. He was leaning heavily against his brother.

"Well," Davey said, putting his arm around Les, "See you tomorrow."

"Alright."

"Carrying the banner," Davey said.

Jack cracked a smile. "Carrying the banner."

And with one final wave and a smile, Davey and Les left. Jack took one last look at the trolley workers, and the fire, and he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yeah. this scene is both the movie and the musical. it's primarily the musical but the trolley worker scene was from the movie. lemme know what you think in the comments!


	3. the right way to write it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katherine Pulitzer-Plumber and the case of seeing a pretty woman on the sidewalk.
> 
> or. Katherine's POV on the morning she saw Sarah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's my birthday tomorrow and i thought i could update this as a celebration! yay! i would've posted this tomorrow but our enrollment for college starts tomorrow so i can't. anyways, here's the shortest chapter yet but expect the next update soon!
> 
> this is dedicated to my mother, who upon stumbling on a rerun of newsies (broadway) on hbo family and watching jeremy jordan sing _santa fe_ , said to me, "who is that handsome man? he has a beautiful voice."
> 
> honestly, same.

Katherine's desk was full with crumpled paper.

It was not a new sight; a balled-up paper or ten was always on Katherine's table or floor or drawer. It would find itself at the bottom of her chest, under her bed, even in her skirt. Crumpled papers were the least of Katherine's problems.

The cause of those crumpled papers was.

She had been up until three in the morning trying to write up a review for a show and even then, she wasn't satisfied. It chafed her that she's still writing for the vaudevilles when it's clear she can handle the hard news but all her editors gave her was the shows. Bryan Denton gave her a few articles to write that wasn't a review but even he's shut down when he assigned her one too many good stories.

It was clear to Katherine that she has to write these reviews as perfect as she could to show she can handle writing news.

She gave her desk a lingering look, telling herself that she'd clean it as soon as she gets home despite having told herself that for the past few weeks. Her damned article was still on her typewriter and she put it in her bag as gingerly as she can

A quick glance at her mirror told Katherine she was at least decent. Her face still didn't show the fatigue she has been feeling for the past few days, staying up all night to chase a deadline or two.

Her mind was moving fast as she ran out of her bedroom. If she was early at the office, she might catch Denton, have him read her article. He may not be her editor, technically, but she valued his opinion and criticism more than others. She had her hand on the doorknob, mind racing at all the work she had to do when her father's voice rang out, "Going too soon, Katherine?"

Katherine turned around. Her hand fell limp to her side. "I, uh --"

Joseph Pulitzer sat at the head of the table, back straight. Beside him was her mother, staring at Katherine tight-lipped. "Is  _ The Sun _ operating an hour before  _ The World _ ?" he asked her.

"No, I just want to be at the office earlier," she said. Her hold on her bag tightened.

"Without eating breakfast?" her father said.

"Have a bite before you go, darling," her mother added. 

_ I’m doing this for my mother _ , she thought as she drew closer to the table. Choosing a seat closer to her, Katherine sat down. She grabbed a piece of still hot bread and a cup of coffee.

"The circulation has been down for  _ The World _ ," her father said conversationally. He buttered a piece of toast, not giving her a glance. "Has it been like that for  _ The Sun _ ?"

"I don't know, Father," she said, although she knew  _ The Sun _ 's circulation was down too. She took a sip of coffee.

"Are you still playing at being a reporter?" Katherine's fingers tightened on the cup as her father continued on. "I never got your obsession with this game, you could have lived comfortably --"

"I'm not playing, Father," Katherine interrupted, putting down the cup. Her appetite was gone. "I am doing well at  _ The Sun _ ."

"Writing vaudeville reviews?"

"Because that's all they give me but I know I can bust out of the social pages if they give me a chance!" Katherine said. "If you just give me a chance to --"

"I did, for a year and look at you!"

"I am doing fine, with no help from you." Suddenly, she couldn't stand being in this room, conversing with her parents like they didn't drop her like a hot potato when she grew up to be the opposite of a perfect daughter. Katherine wrapped her bread in paper and stood up to leave.

"Where are you going, Kathy?" her mother called as Katherine strode towards the front door.

She was shaking. "Work. I'll see you later."

Katherine strode out her house's porch, her feet furiously hitting the stairs and the stone path. A younger Katherine might have cried but she was too angry to let the tears out. Her hands curled into fists, slapping against her skirt as she all but ran.

This was her house but it has never been a home.

She was walking with no purpose aside from getting out of here as fast as possible that she started when a hand fell on her shoulder.

"Katherine!" It was Darcy, decked out in a brown suit and a hat. "I called you twice," he said, offering his arm the way he did every time they walk together.

Despite her mood, Katherine smiled. She looped her arm through his. "I'm sorry."

He took a moment to look at her and frowned. "Are you okay?"

She waved her free hand about. "You know how it is," she said, not wanting to get into the details.

Darcy understood. “Is it your father?”

“When is it  _ not  _ my father?” Katherine said bitterly. “I’m sorry, Darce. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

Darcy patted her arm. "It’s okay. If it makes you feel better, I think you're doing great as a reporter."

Katherine squeezed his arm in gratitude. "It does. Thank you so much, Darcy. But it doesn't matter, not to my father. I'm only writing for the social pages." The venom in her voice was noticeable.

"You would do great at news," Darcy said. "And your articles at the social pages are already better than them."

Katherine laughed. "Tell that to my editors."

They were getting close to her office, basing on the fact that a handful of boys were passing past them, hooting and hollering. Instinctively, Darcy pulled Katherine closer.

It wasn't that the newsboys weren't good people; they were just rowdy. They have a reputation. They barely had passed by when one newsie stopped them, a grin on his face.

"Oh, hello, hello, hello, beautiful." This one was definitely younger than both her and Darcy, eyes moving constantly between the two of them.

Darcy moved as if to open his mouth but another newsie pulled the boy away. "Whoa, step aside, Romeo, nothin' concerns you here." Katherine filed the name to the face as the new newsie turned to face her. He looked around Katherine's age, a cheeky smile on his face.

"Good mornin', Miss! May I interest you in the latest news?"

"The paper isn't out yet," Katherine told him. She and Darcy took a step but the boy held out a hand to stop him.

"I would be delighted to deliver it to you personally," he said, cocking his head.

Katherine rolled her eyes. She spoke before Darcy had the chance to. "I've got a headline for you," she said, removing her arm from Darcy's. "'Cheeky boy gets nothing for his troubles.'"

The other newsies roared at this. Katherine heard Romeo call out, "You're outta your league, Kelly!" and stumbled as Kelly pushed him out.

Kelly. Katherine took one last look at the boy -- cheeky grin, mussed up hair, blue shirt -- and wounding an arm around Darcy's again, they slipped out.

Once they turned the corner, Darcy sighed. "You better be careful, Kathy," he told her.

"You know how they are," Katherine replied. "I'll be fine, Darce. Don't worry."

_ The Sun _ ’s office was just around the corner. Katherine tore her gaze from Darcy, making her catch the eye of one of the women lining up on the sidewalk.

The first word Katherine thought of at seeing her was brown. Not the cool clean brown of Darcy's suit. No, this girl -- for she was a girl, around Katherine's age if she had to surmise -- was warm brown. Her hair, straight down her back, was a shade of light brown Katherine never thought of as pretty but was now enamored with. Her dress was white and brown, cinnamon and earth. Her eyes, when it met Katherine's, were brown as well.

Brown never made an impact on Katherine before, but now all she could think of was how warm brown was, and how much it felt like a home Katherine never knew.

Someone nudged the girl and their eye contact, which felt both like forever and half a second, ended. Still, before Katherine turned the corner to  _ The Sun _ , she looked up to see the girl again.

She looked quickly at Katherine's direction before she stepped in the factory.

When Katherine turned to face Darcy, he was already looking straight at her, his eyebrow cocked.

"Kathy," he said, half a warning and half a tease.

"Darcy," she repeated in the same tone. Thankfully, Darcy dropped the subject, only shaking his head at her.

They stopped in front of  _ The Sun _ , and Katherine gave Darcy's arm one last thankful squeeze before she pulled her arm out. "Thank you for walking me here."

Darcy reflected the smile Katherine knew was on her face. "You're welcome. I'll see you around."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Bryan Denton's office was the first place Katherine visited every morning.

Katherine had her fair shares of editors and she liked Denton the most. He was the one who didn't look down on her because she was a girl, and his criticism of her article was just about her article, not about her as a reporter and person.

She knocked twice on the door and waited for his "Come in!" before she entered.

"Good morning, Denton," she said.

Denton smiled at her from behind the desk. "Good morning, Katherine."

She dug into her bag and placed her article down on his desk. "Here's the article for vaudeville the other day. If you could, could you give me some quick pointers before I hand it to Johnson?"

“Of course.” Denton took the article and gave in a quick read. "I'll give it to you as soon as I can. In the meantime, there's another assignment for you. Medda's, for the Bowery Beauties. It opens tonight."

Katherine suppressed a sigh. "Another vaudeville?"

Denton nodded, frowning. "I know. I tried to convince them to give better stories. With your skill and your wit, you could dominate the news section."

"I appreciate it, Denton. I really do. But I'll be stuck in the social pages for a while, won't I?"

Denton sighed, not an admission but not a denial. "No much longer, if it were up to me."

"But it isn't. Still," Katherine said, trying to put in her gratitude in her words, "thank you. For believing in me."

"It was all you, Katherine." Denton smiled at her. and Katherine wanted nothing but to stay in that moment forever, to replay the words over and over. A believer, in a sea of detractors. But Katherine shook herself. There was still work to be done.

"I best be going, then," Katherine said. She nodded once, a goodbye. "See you, Denton."

"You too."

With one last smile, Katherine left the office. She still had a mountain to climb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for you folks who hasn't seen 92sies, [here](https://permanentmochakisses.tumblr.com/post/178640005835/sarah-jacobs-in-newsies-1992-requested-by) is what sarah jacobs looked like. she's so djfjk gorgeous!!
> 
> anyways, it'll probably come up later, but i'll just clarify on the newsies' (and everyone else's) ages. jack and davey's about the same age (17), sarah is 19, katherine just turned 20. i separated the newsies in two, with the younger crowd being around 13-15 and the older group around 16-17. the younger crowd are elmer, romeo, mush, and tommy boy. the older newsies are race, albert, finch, and specs. mike and ike + henry + crutchie kinda hover the older and younger crowd, as they are almost 16.
> 
> is there any canon evidence about this? no. these characters just have that ~vibe~, ya know
> 
> i'm definitely forgetting other newsies so i'll just add to this ig


	4. the world will know

They were running late this morning. David's feet struck the street, one heavy step after the other as he pulled Les behind him. Sarah was hot on their heels.

"Oh, thank God," Sarah sighed as her factory came in sight. Women still lined up on the sidewalk, her boss nowhere to be found. "Mr. Cooper still isn't here."

They would have left early this morning, but they ran out of the willow bark tea his father drank to keep the pain to a minimum. Mama had to run to Mrs. Vandenburg to get some, and Sarah and David had to cook and clean while she prepared the tea for their Papa.

When they neared the factory, Sarah turned to David. "Take care you two!"

Without slowing down, David called out, "And you too!"

With that, David and Les ran past alleys and blocks to the Newsies Square. When they arrived, a handful of boys were loitering about, still waiting for the distribution window to open up. They weren’t late yet.

"Mornin', everybody!" David said as soon as they entered the gates. Boys' heads swiveled at the sound of them. David noticed that Jack wasn't here yet. "We had to help our mom with somethin’."

David was getting better at knowing who's who, and it was Race, a cigar still in hand, that replied. "Oh, they got a mother! I was gonna get me one."

"What did you do with the one you had?" Romeo asked.

Jojo answered, jumping down from a wagon. "He traded her for a box of cigars."

"Hey, they was Coronas," Race said, jabbing Jojo on the chest.

"We got a father, too," Les said and David put a hand on his shoulder to shut him up. 

Jojo laughed. "Oh, a mother and a father," hesaid.

Race swatted Jojo away from him. "Well, ain’t we the hoi polloi."

Les continued on, oblivious. "So, how’s it goin’ today?"

"Ask me after they put up the headline," Romeo said.

Les looked up. "Here it comes now."

The newsies rushed to where David and Les were standing, straining the neck to read it. David's mouth opened as he finished reading it, and a sharp intake of breath told him the newsies did too.

"'New newsie price'," Albert read the headline. "'60 cents per hundred'."

David faced him. "Is that news?"

"It is to me! They jacked up the price of papes, ten cents more a’ hundred!"

"I could eat two days on a dime!"

"I’ll be sleepin’ in the street!" Crutchie cried.

"You already sleep on the street," A newsie whose name David didn't know said.

"In a worse neighborhood," Crutchie said grimly.

"You're right, you're right."

A flurry of noise came from the gates and David didn't even have to look up to know Jack just entered the premises. A hand slapped his shoulder lightly and David turned around just in time to catch Jack's eyes before he stood beside Crutchie, throwing his arm around his shoulder.

"Hey, what’re you all standing around for?" he said.

"Get a load of this." Crutchie pointed at the headline. Jack's face tightened.

"Like Pulitzer don’t make enough already," Race spat.

The distribution window opened with a snap and Weasel, a slimy grin on his face, leaned out. “Papes! Papes for the newsies!"

"Relax, it’s gotta be a gag," Jack said, keeping his voice light. David knew he was trying to be optimistic for the younger boys' sake; he did it many times with Les before. He caught David's eyes once more but he averted his gaze quickly David wasn't sure if it actually happened.

By the window, Weasel called out again. "Line up, boys."

"Good joke. Weasel, you got these fellas goin'," Jack said, smiling a little. David and the others fell in line behind; they would always follow Jack. "I’ll take a hundred and be on my way."

"A hundred’ll cost ya sixty," Wiesel replied.

Jack's smile fell. "I ain’t payin’ no sixty."

"Then make way for someone who will."

Jack was halfway across the gates before David could blink. "Well, you bet me and the fellas will hike over to  _ The Journal _ ."

Specs stopped Jack before he could go any further. "I’ll save you the walk." His lips were set in a straight line. "They hiked up their price, too."

Undeterred, Jack sidestepped him. "Well then we’ll take our business to  _ The Sun _ !"

"Same all around town." David hated the way Weasel's voice spread through the square, like he was enjoying seeing these kids’ distress. "New day, new price."

Jack ran back to the window. "Well, why the jack up?"

"For them kinda answers, you gotta ask higher up the food chain." Weasel leaned forward, smirking. "So ya buyin’, or movin’ along?"

Jack looked around at the Square, once, twice, before he strode to an empty wagon and sat down. "Come here, fellas."

His voice left no room to argue. David walked closer, and so did the other newsies. They sat at Jack's feet, like they were waiting for a command.

"They can’t just do that, can they?" Albert asked.

"Why not?" Race said. "It’s their paper."

"It’s their  _ World _ ."

"Ain’t we got no rights?" Finch said.

"We got the right to starve! Let’s just get our papes and hit the street while we still can," Crutchie said.

The boys started talking all at the same time but Jack held up his hand to silence them. They fell quiet, waiting for Jack to speak up. 

“No one is payin’ no new number," he insisted.

"You got an idea?" Tommy Boy said.

"Keep your shirt on, let’s think this through."

The newsies started talking through each other, their voices mixing. Jack's frown deepened. David had almost opened his mouth to quiet them down but Les beat him to it.

"Stop crowding him!" Les shoved a few boys away from Jack. "Let the man work it out!"

Silence fell on the square as every single newsie waited for Jack's course of action. David leaned forward and almost stumbled when Jack's eyes met his.

_ What should we do? _ The question was clear in his eyes.

A rap on the window tore the guys’ gaze on Jack. Weasel opened the window slightly. "Hey, World's employees on this side of the gate only!"

His laugh reverberated across the square. Newsies picked up old paper from the ground to throw at him, but the window was already snapped shut.

"Hey Jack, ya still thinkin’?" Les asked.

"Sure he is," Race said. "Can’t ya smell the smoke?" He waved his hand over his nose, to the scattered laughter of the boys.

"Alright, here’s the deal." The newsies stepped closer to Jack. David stopped at Jack's side, bending down so they were on the same level. Jack's eyes flickered quickly to him. "If we don’t sell papes, no one sells papes. No one gets them out there --" His voice rose as the boys' talked over him -- "until when they put the price back where it belongs!"

"You mean like a strike?" David asked.

Jack smiled. Stood up and clapped David's shoulders. "Hey, you heard Davey, we’re on strike!"

The chatter of dozens of boys filled the air as David shrugged Jack's hand off. ."Hold on, I didn’t say that --"

"We shut down this place, just like them workers shut down the trolley." Jack's voice was rising, continually rising. He jumped up the wagon and stared down at them.

"Yeah, then the cops’ll bust our heads," Finch said. "Half a’ them strikers is laid up with broke bones."

Jack waved his concerns away. "The cops ain’t gonna care about a bunch of kids! Right, Davey?" He beamed at David and David wasn't sure whether he should punch him or laugh at him or follow him.

David grasped his brother's hand. "Leave me out of this. I’m just here trying to feed my family." He turned and dragged Les behind him, crossing the square when Jack ran up and stopped him.

"What, and the rest of us is on playtime?" There's anger in his eyes and Davey wasn't sure if it's directed at him or the situation. "Just because we only make pennies doesn’t give them the right to rub our noses in it." His voice became softer, pleading almost.

"You can’t strike, you’re not a union," David said, because it was true. Les shrugged off David's hold on him but he couldn't manage to tear his eyes off Jack. His righteous fury and his eyes. Impossibly, honey brown eyes.

Jack stared at him like he was the one being stupid. "What if I says we is?"

"There’s a lot of stuff you gotta have in order to be a union. Like membership."

Jack’s hand swept behind him, gesturing at the newsies staring at the two of them. "What do you call these guys?"

The newsies shared one confused look but waved obediently. Les was holding Specs's hand.

"And… and officers." David was grasping at straws by now.

Upon hearing this, Crutchie yelled, "I nominate Jack president!"

"Gee, I'm touched," Jack said but David could see he was pleased.

David knew it was a losing battle now but he gave it one last fight. "What about a statement of purpose?"

"I must’a left that in my other pants," Jack said.

Race raised his hand. "What’s a statement of purpose?"

"A reason for forming the union," Davey replied.

Jack spread his arms. "What reason did the trolley workers have?"

"I dunno!" At Jack's stare, Davey continued, "Wages, work hours, safety on the job?"

"Well, who don’t need that? Hey." He stepped closer to David and he could see every single fleck of color in Jack's eyes. A mole was on his left cheek. David wanted to step away, he wanted to come closer. Jack was magnetic. "I bet if your father had a union, you wouldn’t need to be out here sellin’ papes right now, huh?"

Anger flickered at David's chest but the more he thought of it, the more he knew Jack was right. Les and David wouldn't have to be hawking headlines on the street if Papa had a union to protect him. "Yeah…"

Jack pointed at him triumphantly and ran to stand on the wagon again, spreading his arms open. "So, our union is hereby formed to watch each others’ backs. Union, we stand… hey, that’s not bad, someone right that down."

Les rushed to Jack, holding up something. "I got a pencil!"

Jack grinned at Les. "Well, meet our secretary of state!"

"If you want to strike, the membership’s gotta vote," David said.

Jack rolled his eyes. "All right. So we’ll vote. What do you say, fellas --" He held up his hands -- "the choice is yours. Do we roll over and let Pulitzer pick our pockets, or do we strike?

A sound "Strike!" resounded through the square. Jack stood taller.

"You heard the voice of the membership. The newsies of Lower Manhattan are officially on strike!" David couldn't look away from Jack. He's always been their leader but here, in this light, standing above them in that blue shirt and smiling like that, David would have followed him anywhere.

"Wouldn't a strike be more effective if someone in charge knew about it?" Crutchie said.

Race stretched. "It would be a pleasure to tell Weasel myself!"

"And who tells Pulitzer, huh? Davey?" Jack looked at David, challenging him to answer.

"I don't know…"

Jack continued to stare at him and David sighed. "I guess you do, Mr. President."

The newsies let out a hoot as David moved back to Jack's side. Jack knelt down so he could see him eye to eye. "Yeah, we do. So, uh, what do we tell him?"

"Well, the newspaper owners need to respect your rights as employees."

Jack stood up straighter. "Pulitzer and Hearst gotta respect the rights of the kids in this city!" he yelled, to the approval of dozens of newsboys.

Jack's enthusiasm was infectious. "They can't just change the rules when they feel like it!" Davey said, waving his hand about.

"Yeah, we do the work," Jack said. "So we got a say!"

On an impulse, David climbed the wagon, side by side with Jack. Jack's grin warmed him to the toes. "We got a union!"

"Yeah!" the newsies yelled.

"Pulitzer and Hearst, they think we're nothing," Jack yelled at the newsies. "They think we're just street rats, street trash. Are we nothing?"

"No!"

"They need to understand that we're not enslaved to them," David said. It's exhilarating to be this up high, Jack this close. "We're free agents. We're a union now, the Newsboy Union and we mean business!"

"Hey, what’s stoppin’ some other kids from comin’ along to sell our papes?" Finch said.

"Just let ‘em try!" Albert said and the boys yelled, pumping their fists in the air. Jack was yelling alongside them.

"No!" David said, grabbing Jack's sleeve. "We can’t beat up on other kids. We’re all in this together."

Jack looked at David's fingers on his sleeve and David dropped his hold. "Fine, fine. Ya heard Davey." Jack stared at the sea of boys. "Are we gonna do this? Are we going to stop the wagons and tell Pulitzer where he can stick it!"

"Yeah!"

Jack jumped down the wagon and ruffled Race's hair. David looked around, softly smoothed out Finch's hair and stood beside Jack. He winked at David before he ran off towards the headline board.

“Hey, Jack --” David started to call but Jack either did not hear him or chose to ignore him. He snatched a chalk on the ground and with a flourish, he wrote  _ STRIKE  _ on big letters.

A roar rose from the newsies. Jack threw the chalk to the ground and yelled. All eyes were on him but a surge flowed through David when those brown eyes settled on him.

_ Am I doing okay? _

David nodded slightly. The smile on Jack’s face widened before he jumped down the board.

"Are ya ready, Davey?" Jack asked him when he was close enough. His lips were pulled in a confident smirk but his eyes asked a different question. _Are we really gonna do this?_

David replied with a smile as Les wiggled his way under David's arms. "As ready as I'll ever be."

Jack threw his arm around David's waist, leaving a hot trail to where his skin touched David. He tried to ignore it, instead throwing an arm around Jack and Les.

Arms wrapped around each other, they walked forward. They have  _ The World _ to conquer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i got like, two and a half chapters left, as soon as i finish that i'll be updating more frequently (like, _every other day_ frequently). for now, it'll be twice a week. thank you so much for reading!
> 
> also, i _thought_ it'd be a sixteen chapter fic, but one chapter got so long i had to cut it in half, so heads up as to why this fic suddenly became 17 chapters lmao
> 
> online classes has begun but updates will still be regular. keep safe!


	5. write it good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The smile Jack gave her was different than all the flirty smirks he's been sending her. It was smaller, more hopeful, more tentative. She took three steps away when Jack called her again.
> 
> "Hey, hey, hey, Plumber!"
> 
> Katherine looked back. Jack bit his lips, hesitant and hopeful. He looked like he was seventeen, looked at Katherine like she held his life in her hands. In a way, she did.
> 
> "Write it good. We both got a lot riding on you."

Katherine’s day had barely started when Denton strode to her desk.

“Good morning, Denton.” Katherine nodded at Denton briefly before returning to retrieving her article from her bag. Normally, Katherine would have gone straight to his office first thing, but she figured she needed to polish her article first. “Could I help you with anything? I was actually going to visit by lunch.”

"I need your help," he said. Katherine stopped at his tone. "I need you to come with me."

"What for?"

"The newsboys on the square just announced their strike." His tone was grim. A second strike in the span of a month. “I could use a hand.”

Without a word, Katherine stood up, shouldering her bag. Her article could wait. "What do you want me to do, Denton?" she asked as they walked out of the building. Katherine could operate a camera well enough if that's what Denton was asking, but not by much.

"I want you to write about the strike."

For the second time, Katherine stopped. Denton was already a few steps ahead when he realized Katherine was frozen on the sidewalk behind him.

"Like, news?"

Denton stepped closer to her. "Yes. Technically, it was for me, but I get to choose my co-writer."

"You chose me?" Katherine's voice was soft.

"You've proven yourself a thousand times over with your articles," Denton said. "Granted, it's not solely your own, but it's a --"

Katherine reached over to touch Denton on the arm. "Denton, this is enough. More than enough. Thank you so much."

"You did this on your own, Katherine," he said. "You don't need to thank me. Now, come on. We have a story to follow."

By the time Katherine and Denton arrived, the Newsie Square was long empty. The only indication that there was a strike to begin with was a hastily written  _ STRIKE _ ! on the board that announced the headlines.

They were nearby, though, lounging around Jacobi's Deli. Katherine could hear them even from outside.With an encouraging nod from Denton, Katherine pushed open the door.

"Hey, Finch, you’re tellin’ me you’re scared of Brooklyn," said a voice that Katherine knew was Jack Kelly from Medda's. By this time, the deli was empty, save for one or two customers. The majority of the people were the newsies, all huddled together in three tables.

Jack Kelly was standing on top of the farthest table and he was staring at kid no older than sixteen who for some reason was standing on the table in the middle.

"I ain't scared of no turf!" the kid said, puffing his chest out. The other newsies turn to look at him in disbelief and after a second or two, he looked away. "But Spot Conlon makes me a little jittery."

"Fine, me and Davey'll take Brooklyn."

A boy, dressed too primly to be a newsie, started. This one looked awfully familiar. "Me? No, I --"

Denton gave Katherine a little nod and steeling herself, she walked over the newsies's tables, acting like she's more confident than she actually feels.

"Why is everyone so scared of Brooklyn?" she asked and the noise died down.

Jack brightened up. "Reporter Kath!" he said. "What are you doing here?"

Katherine felt Denton move somewhere to her back. "Asking a question. You got an answer?"

Jack walked closer to her, confidence evident on every movement. He was grinning too, and charmingly so. "Brooklyn is the sixth largest city in the world," he told her. "You get Brooklyn, you got the motherload. Say," he continued as he went back and stood behind the boy he talked to earlier. Davey, Katherine took notice, "for someone who works for the _ New York Sun _ , you are spendin’ an awful lot of time around  _ The World _ . What’s that about, huh? You followin’ me?"

He finished this off by putting his chin on Davey's shoulder, who quickly tried to push him off. with a quiet, "Jack."

Katherine rolled her eyes. Davey's familiarity fell in piece; he was the guy Jack drew last night. "The only thing I’m following is a story," she said. "A rag-tag gang of ragamuffins wants to take on the king makers of New York. Do you think you have a chance?"

Jack frowned. "Shouldn’t you be at the ballet?"

“Is the question too difficult? I’ll rephrase. Will the richest and most powerful men in New York give the time of day to a gang of kids who haven’t got a nickel to their name?"

"Katherine," Denton said softly but a boy in crutches stepped forward.

"Hey, you don’t gotta be insulting," he said. Then, sheepishly: "I got a nickel."

"What we mean to say is," Denton said, speaking for the first time, "the odds are stacked against you, and yet you still fight. Do you think Pulitzer will listen?"

Katherine shivered. No, he won't, she thought. Unless you make a big enough noise even he can't ignore.

Davey stepped in beside the boy with the crutches. "He has to."

"Who are you?" Jack asked Denton. The other boys were inching closer to the five of them, drawn in by the tension.

"My name is Bryan Denton," Denton said. "This is Katherine Plumber. We're reporters from  _ The Sun _ . What are yours?"

"Name's Jack Kelly," Jack said. He tipped his hat in mock salute.

"I'm David Jacobs," Davey said. "This is my brother Les." He tapped the shoulder of the youngest newsie in the vicinity.

"David, as in David and Goliath?" Denton said, smiling and Katherine felt like they hit a jackpot. She beamed as well.

"Hold on, I didn't say that," he objected.

"You don't have to," Katherine said. "We could make it work," she whispered to Denton.

"And the other guys?" Denton asked.

Jack pointed at every single one of the newsies, saying names like Race and Buttons and Finch. By the end, Katherine had the names down, more or less. When they were finished, Davey turned to Denton.

"Are we really an important story?" Davey asked.

"Well, what’s important?" Denton said. "Last year I covered the war in Cuba. Charged up San Juan Hill with Col. Teddy Roosevelt. That was an important story. So, is the newsies strike important? That all depends on you and your action."

“D’ya really think we can make it in the papes?” Crutchie asked.

"To shut a paper like  _ The World _ ," Katherine said, "you’re gonna make the front page."

A hush fell over the boys. Davey's hand reached out and clasped Crutchie's. Jack stepped closer to Katherine and Denton.

"You want a story?" he said. "Be at the circulation gate tomorrow mornin’ and you’ll get one. Oh, and bring a camera, cause you’ll wanna snap a picture of this!"

A roar rose from the boys, a ruckus so loud the owner rushed in to shoo them out. They booed and jeered and hooted but they left the restaurant all the same. Katherine caught Denton's eye as they boys rushed out of the deli around them.

"We better get an interview from any of these boys," Denton said as they stepped out of the deli. "Jack Kelly is an obvious choice, but I get a feeling talking to David Jacobs would help, too."

Katherine thought so as well. Jack was the face of the strike, the leader, but David Jacobs played a role too. What, she wasn't yet sure.

"I think I could handle Jack Kelly," Katherine said. "I've talked to him before."

"Then we better hurry before those boys leave for Brooklyn."

They caught the two of them just outside the deli. Davey was talking to his brother in quick tones.

"No, you're going home," he was saying. "You're not coming with us to Brooklyn."

"Why not?" the boy Les was saying.

"Because you'se gotta stay safe," Jack said, patting the boy's head. "Your brother's gonna worry himself the whole time, and he's already worrying himself sick."

"I am not --" Davey started but he caught sight of Denton and Katherine. "Good morning. Anything we can help you with?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, there is," Denton said. "We were hoping to get an interview."

"From the both of us?"

"I was aiming one from you, actually," Denton said. "Katherine here will be interviewing Jack Kelly."

Jack snickered. "Wantin' more alone time with me, Kath?" He leaned against the wall, smiling cockily. He didn't notice the quick look Davey shot him or the frown on his face but Katherine did.

Huh.

Katherine straightened up. "The only thing I want is the story, Mr. Kelly," she said. "Is there any time you'd be available for an interview?"

He winked at her. "Well, I'll pencil in an appointment just for you."

Katherine sighed.

"We better get going," Davey said. "I gotta get Les home --"

"I want to go to Brooklyn!" Les insisted.

"You are not." Davey's voice left no room for argument.

"How about I walk you to your home?" Denton suggested. The Jacobs brothers looked at him. "I'll interview you on the way and you can go about your business in Brooklyn."

Davey shot Jack a look, who shrugged in return. "We can just meet by the Brooklyn Bridge in an hour or so. Then I can give Kath the interview she wants." He raised his eyebrows at her suggestively.

Katherine was already wishing she volunteered to interview Davey instead.

Davey's eyes flickered to Jack then Katherine then back to Jack. "All right," he said. "See you at the bridge."

Denton’s eye caught Katherine’s and he gave her a quick nod. “See you at the office later,” he said.

“I will.”

Katherine watched as Denton interrogated Davey, who kept a steady hand on Les as they walked. When she turned to look at Jack, mouth open to ask, she found his eyes followed the brothers until they disappeared around the corner.

A reporter knows how to find her facts.

Katherine rounded up on Jack as soon as he looked at her. "So what’s your story?" she said. Jack started walking to the bridge and so Katherine followed him. "Are you selling papers to work your way through art school?"

Jack stared at her incredulously. "Art school? You’re kidding me, right?"

"But you’re an artist!" Katherine sputtered. "You’ve got real talent. You should be inside the paper illustrating, not outside, hawkin’ it." That was putting it mildly. The quick sketch Jack left her box last night was almost par to sketches trained artists made.

"Well, that ain't what I want."

"So tell me what you want."

Jack stopped and Katherine almost ran into him. He met her eyes, leaning dangerously close. "Can't you see it in my eyes?"

Katherine stepped back. "I don't think I was the one you'd be making eyes at, Mr. Kelly."

Jack frowned at her. "What does that mean?"

"I was there last night at the theater," she said. "And I certainly wasn't the only picture you drew."

Katherine reveled at the stunned silence Jack was giving her. "I, uh --"

Katherine plucked her pen and paper. "Have you always been their leader?"

"What?"

"Have you always been the newsies' leader?"

Thankfully, whatever stunned spell Jack was under ended. He started walking again, and Katherine followed. "I’m a blowhard, Davey’s the brains."

"That's David Jacobs, right?" Jack glowered at Katherine like she was being purposefully obtuse. "I'm only trying to clarify. How long has Mr. Jacobs been second-in-command?"

To Katherine's surprise, Jack laughed. "Davey ain't even sold a pape before yesterday. He's smart but he ain't the second-in-command."

"Then who is?"

"Race." Katherine's mind supplied the image of Race and that cigar always on his mouth. Then it backtracked to Jack's first statement.

"So you're telling me today's Davey's second day on the job?" Katherine asked.

"In a manner of speaking," Jack replied.

That can't be right, Katherine thought. She only saw a smidge of the rapport between Jack and Davey but it can't be only a day old relationship.

"Then how come he's co-leading the strike?" Katherine asked.

"I told ya," Jack said, "Davey's smart. He's goin' to school and all that crap. He says what we should do to win this strike and we do it."

"But those boys would have followed you anywhere," Katherine said, almost to herself. Jack's voice commanded this troop of hungry, shivering newsies, but it was Davey's words that came out of Jack.

Jack waved his hand around, like he was embarrassed to be called the leader.

"Modesty is not a quality I would’ve pinned on you," she told him honestly. "Now, tell me about tomorrow. What are you hoping for?"

Jack fell quiet. Katherine let him be, but it wasn't until they passed two blocks in silence before he spoke again. "Today we stopped other newsies from carryin’ the papes, but the wagons still deliver to the rest of the city. Tomorrow, we stop the wagons."

"How long have you been a newsie?"

The silence that followed was twice as long Katherine thought Jack wouldn't answer. "Since I was eight."

"And how old are you now?"

"Seventeen."

With a chill, Katherine realized that he was only three years younger than her. Back at Jacobi's Deli, she had assumed Jack was older. Maybe it was the fatigue that bore him down, or carrying the burden of spending half his life shivering and hungry and hawking headlines to apathetic passersby.

Her next question was almost a whisper. "Are you scared?"

Jack chuckled. "Do I look scared?" His voice shook. "But, uh… ask me again in the morning."

"Good answer." Katherine dusted her skirt. Put her notes and her pen back on her bag. "I have more than enough for my article. Thank you, Mr. Kelly. And off the record --" She smiled at him -- "good luck."

The smile Jack gave her was different than all the flirty smirks he's been sending her. It was smaller, more hopeful, more tentative. She took three steps away when Jack called her again.

"Hey, hey, hey, Plumber!"

Katherine looked back. Jack bit his lips, hesitant and hopeful. He looked like he was seventeen, looked at Katherine like she held his life in her hands. In a way, she did.

"Write it good. We both got a lot riding on you."

Without waiting for her reply, Jack Kelly disappeared again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i actually debated how much of the comments katherine made in the musical would make it here now that denton's with her. obvs i love kath but it would make sense why the newsies aren't that receptive to her when she called them ragamuffins and penniless. so as much as i loved the banter in the musical, denton would probably act as a buffer to katherine's impulses.


	6. join the fray

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> online classes are killing me but i think i'll still be able to keep up with the update schedule. i'm still stuck with like 2 and a half chapters but hopefully i could finish it over the weekend! fingers crossed!
> 
> this chapter is mostly 92sies because movie spot is iconique *chefs kiss*

Davey arrived at the Brooklyn Bridge half an hour after Katherine left. He was still wearing that tie and his smile was wide and beautiful when he saw Jack waiting for him.

_ I don't think I was the one you'd be making eyes at, Mr. Kelly _ , Katherine's words repeated in his head as Davey came closer.

"Sorry, it took a while," Davey said, even though he arrived earlier than they agreed on. They started walking. "I had to convince my Ma I'm heading to Brooklyn for some business. Technically, we are."

"Your Ma knew we's on a strike?" 

Davey shook his head, the afternoon light falling over his eyes, turning it into the brown Jack imagined the trees in Santa Fe would be. Has his eyelashes always been that long? "She will if Katherine and Denton managed to get the article on the paper." He glanced at Jack, then back away. "What did she ask you, by the way?"

"The usual," Jack said, dismissively. He pushed Katherine's words behind. He could analyze that later. "You? Denton been prodding at ya? What's he askin' you?"

"The same," Davey said. "How long I've been a newsie, things like that."

"Same's as Kath's, then."

"Yeah."

When Jack looked at Davey, he found his face passive, lips pursed in determination. Without thinking, Jack reached out and slung an arm around Davey's shoulders, the way he would if it was Crutchie or Race who's worrying themselves sick. 

Davey froze, just for a second, but it was enough for Jack to notice. Some boys who came used to flinch whenever someone moved too quickly. Instinctively, Jack withdrew his arm.

Silence descended. Jack cleared his throat. "You okay there, Davey?" he asked.

"It's just that I’ve never been to Brooklyn before," Davey admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. His accent became more prominent now. "And now I'm goin' there to talk to the leader of the Brooklyn newsies, of all people." 

"It's just Spot Conlon," Jack said. "Ain't nothin' to be worried about."

"Yeah, and half the newsies are scared of him for no reason at all," Davey said, sarcasm bleeding through his words. "Is he really dangerous?"

Jack laughed. "Him, dangerous? Nah!" Davey stared at him disbelievingly. "He's just mouthy and thinks he's smarter than everyone."

"So, dangerous then," Davey said and Jack elbowed him, grinning.

As Jack expected, Spot Conlon was easy to find. Him and his boys resided near Coney Island, on a wooden walkway that jutted into the river. Spot's boys were splashing about and roughhousing in the water when he and Davey ventured in.

One boy, Breads, called out, "Going somewhere, Kelly?" He stood up and stepped closer.

Jack sidestepped him like he wasn't worth the attention. "Is Spot Conlon here?"

"Find that out for ya'self."

They found Spot sitting up on a crow’s nest just at the end of the walkway. Jack could feel his gaze as they walked closer. He jumped off when Jack and Davey were near enough to see him, falling in one graceful leap.

If he ain't such a show-off.

"Well, if it ain’t Jack be nimble, Jack be quick." He was a few years younger than Jack himself, but he stood just around Jack's ear. Dirty blonde hair peeked from behind his cap. His gaze was pinned on Jack, barely even giving Davey a glance.

Jack gestured at his pole. "I see you moved up in the world, Spot. Got a river view and everything."

Spot cocked his head, just once, before spitting onto his hand and holding it out. Jack followed suit, clasping their hands in a firm shake. He studiously ignored Davey’s disgusted look at the practice. Jack would have paid actual money to see how Davey would react if Spot turned to him but it seemed as though Spot wasn’t interested in him.

"So, Jacky-boy." Spot stepped back and surveyed Jack. "I’ve been hearing things from little birds. Things from Harlem, Queens, all over. They been chirpin’ in my ear. Jack’s newsies is playing like they’re going on strike."

Jack opened his mouth but Davey was quicker. "We’re not playing. We are going on strike."

For the first time, Spot regarded Davey. His eyes were wide with curiosity and intrigue. Jack couldn't blame him; it was the same emotions he felt when Davey ran his mouth off to Weasel yesterday. "Oh yeah? What is this, Jacky-boy? Some kind of walking mouth?"

Davey huffed, opening his mouth to retort but Jack stepped forward and slung an arm over his shoulder. He shut up quickly. "This right here is Davey Jacobs, and yeah, he's a mouth." Davey turned to him, lips in a tight line. Jack barreled on. "But he's a mouth with a brain, and if you got half a one, you’ll listen to what he’s got to say."

Jack squeezed his shoulder before withdrawing his arm. 

Spot;s eyes swept over Davey, assessing him before crossing arms."Say what you gotta say, Mouth of Manhattan," he said.

Davey glanced at Jack, who nodded at him. "Well." His voice didn't shake. No trace of nerves on him. But his eyes flitted, just for a quick second, to Jack every so often."We started the strike, but we can’t do it alone. So, we’re talking to newsies all around the city."

Spot nodded. "Yeah, so they told me. But what’d they tell you?"

"That they’re waiting to see what Spot Conlon is doing," Davey said. Jack grinned and Davey stood taller. "That Spot Conlon is a respected newsie and if Spot joins the strike, then they'd join and we’ll be unstoppable. You're the key."

Spot listened to Davey stroke his ego with every word, a small smile on his face. He turned to face Jack. "You’re right, Jacky-boy. Brains."

Jack preened, smiling as he caught Davey’s astounded expression. Could they --

Spot continued, "But I got brains too, and more than just half a one. How do I know you punks won’t run the first time some goon comes at ya with a club? How do I know you got what it takes to win?"

Davey looked like he's ready to open his mouth again. Jack held up a hand to stop him.

"We won't, Spot. We's gonna hold our ground."

"That ain’t good enough Jacky-boy. You gotta show me." Spot turned around and climbed back to his nest. The message was clear: the conversation was now over.

Davey stared at the ground where Spot stood, chest heaving deeply.

Jack hit his shoulder, feather light. "C'mon, Davey. Conversation's over."

"But --"

"It's over."

With one last look at Spot, Davey followed Jack out. Jack could feel the Brooklyn newsies' eyes all over them as they exited the long wooden walkway.

Davey, for all his reputation, kept his mouth shut all the way to Brooklyn Bridge. They were halfway across the bridge with the sun's last rays falling around them when Jack stopped them both.

"Hey, Davey, c'mere."

Davey stepped closer to Jack and Jack tried to remember how to breathe again. Davey under Medda's lights last night was made harsh by the shadows, pale skin made paler and black shadow in the curve of his nose and brow bone. This Davey was softer, orange light washing his face and erasing the tension that was evident before. His eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks.

"You ain't ever been in Brooklyn before," Jack said. His voice was softer, too. Fonder. He pointed at the sunset and watched Davey's face when his eyes caught the sunlight ripple on the river. His eyes turned warm. "Sunset at the bridge is different, ain't it?"

"That was beautiful," Davey exhaled, staring at the river.

"Yeah, it is." Jack was staring at Davey. "Don't beat yourself up, huh, ya hear me? Spot Conlon gave us a chance; that's the most he gives anyone."

Davey turned to look at Jack, mouth open. Jack's breath caught as those eyes met his. "How d'ya --"

"Your face gives it all away."  _ Your eyes. Just your eyes. _ "But don't worry. All we gotta do is show Spot we're serious. Ain't we?"

Davey smiled. "Yeah, we are."

"Now, come on, we gotta go home." Jack threw an arm around Davey and after a second of hesitation, Davey's arm came round Jack's waist. Heat unfurled from the skin where Davey's arm rested.

Jack wondered how this would look if he put it into paper. He lacked the colors to do the sunset on Davey’s face justice, but maybe shadows would work. Maybe Medda would let him borrow some leftover paint.

When Davey pulled out his arm, it felt like it’s been around him forever. It felt like it’s been there for half a second.

"You know," Jack said as they started walking back to Manhattan, "things are better in Santa Fe. Moon's bigger, too."

"That's not true," was Davey's quick reply. Then: "Why are you going to Santa Fe? You got folks there?"

Jack scoffed. "Ain't got no folks nowhere."

"You got folks here," Davey said. "Crutchie and Racer and Albert and the boys. They're family, right?"

Jack made a noncommittal grunt. They were family; they had to be when they got no one but each other. Jack gave and stole and bled for these boys and they would do it to anyone in a heartbeat. But, it’s different. 

Davey wouldn't understand. He's got his own family, a real one.

"Hey, how about we go have dinner at my place?" Davey shrugged at Jack's expression. "Ma and Pa'll be happy to have you. They know about you already, with Les and all."

A refusal was already on Jack's lips.

"Just once," Davey said. His eyes were wide, pleading. "Please."

Damn it all to hell. "All right."

Davey's smile was worth it.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The Jacobs lived on the third floor of a tenement building filled to the brim with immigrants. Children ran about, and a small line to the communal bathroom was forming. A few residents called out a polite greeting to Davey. He smiled back.

One elderly woman on the second floor leaned out her open door. "Has the bark been working for your Pop?"

"Yes," Davey replied. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Vandenburg."

When they stopped at the Jacobs' door, Davey turned to look at Jack. "It's not much," he says, clearly sheepish.

"Quit grippin', it's better than most a' us had," Jack said.

Davey nodded, just once. He knocked on the door.

A beautiful girl opened the door. She's got Davey's pale skin, but that's where the similarities ended. Her hair, which stumbled down her shoulder, was a lighter shade of brown, cinnamon to Davey's oak. Her eyes too were different, honey to his moss colored ones.

"Ma! Davey’s heare" the girl said over her shoulders. "And he’s got a friend." She turned to Jack and it dawned on Jack just how piercing the Jacobs' eyes could be. "I don't think we've met. I'm Sarah, David's brother. You are?"

His mouth ran automatically now. "You ain't never told me you got a pretty sister," he told Davey as they stepped in the house. Sarah rolled her eyes, closing the door behind her. "Name's Jack Kelly."

Davey shot him a look that said, clear as day,  _ this is why I never told you. _

“Nice finally meeting you, Jack.” With one glance at him, Sarah returned to the kitchen table where she was setting the table. 

The Jacobs’ home was small but quaint. Upon entrance, Jack could immediately see the loveseat where a man that could only be Davey's father sat. Off to one side was the kitchen, plates stacked at the table. A bed was pushed on the opposite corner, near the fire escape where Les was sleeping soundly.

A petite woman went to them, rubbing her hand down her apron. She had Davey's hair, the same bark brown that she pulled back in a bun. 

“Hello, I’m Esther,” Davey’s ma said. “I’d shake your hands but I’m afraid it’s not clean yet. What’s your name?”

"Ma, this is Jack Kelly," Davey answered. “My partner at selling papers, remember?”

"The Jack Kelly," Sarah added. Davey's head swiveled around to glare at his sister. She just smiled.

"Oh, Jack Kelly," Mrs. Jacobs said. "Welcome in, Jack. My sons have told us so much about you.”

"Good things, I wish," Jack said.

Davey sat down beside Sarah. “Do we have room at dinner for one more?"”

"I suppose we have," Mrs. Jacobs said. “Sarah, can you please wake Les up?”

“Yes, Mama.”

Jack watched as the two women walked towards the living area; Esther towards the loveseat and Sarah at the bed.

Mrs. Jacobs dropped down to help Mr. Jacobs up. "Meyer, here's Jack,” she said conversationally as the two of them hobbled to the table. “He helped David and Les yesterday, remember."

Mr. Jacobs nodded at Jack.."It was nice meeting you, son." 

“It’s no problem, sir, your sons’re a good bunch,” Jack said honestly. He could feel Davey’s stare at him, broken only when Les and Sarah sat down.

Mrs. Jacobs was the last to sit down. "Come now, let's eat while the soup's hot. "

Conversation started. Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs asked the same questions Katherine asked him. How long have you been working, have you got folks, how old are you. Jack answered dutifully: since I was eight, ma'am. I ain't got no folks. Seventeen.

"What's the news I've been hearing about, David?" Sarah asked when the conversation fell in a lull. "Is it true?"

Jack caught Davey's glance. "Well, yeah," he said.

Mrs. Jacobs looked at her children. "What is it?"

It was Les who answered. "We're on a strike!"

A hush fell in the room. "A strike?" Mrs. Jacobs repeated.

"Yes, Mama," Davey replied. He was biting his lip, like he was preparing for the worst possible reaction. "That's why we were in Brooklyn. We need to talk to the other newsies."

"It's a dangerous game you're playing, David," Mrs. Jacobs said. Worry lines deepened on her face.

She meant well, but Jack was tired of hearing that they were only playing at this strike. "We ain't playin', ma'am," Jack interrupted. Five sets of head swiveled his direction. "If we don't speak up, Pulitzer and them up there will rob us blind. It's only a dime, but us boys need those coins. A newsies union would help us."

Mrs. Jacobs shared a glance with her husband. An entire conversation played out without a word from the two.

"A union would have helped us too, Ma," Sarah piped up, gently.

Mrs. Jacobs closed her eyes. "You're right, Sarah. It's dangerous out there," she said, staring at Davey, and then Les. Jack averted his eyes, letting the family have their moment. "Promise me you will be safe."

"I promise, Ma," Davey said.

"Me, too."

A silence. Then, Davey's hand touched his forearm lightly. Jack looked up to see Davey bob his head to Mrs. Jacobs' direction.

"Promise me too, Jack," Mrs. Jacobs said. "You'll be safe."

A lump formed on his throat. It was getting harder to swallow down the stew. "I'll try, Mrs. Jacobs."

She smiled, the edges of her lips in a tired stretch. "Well, that's the best I could hope for. You want more, Jack?" she asked, gesturing at his empty bowl.

"Yes, please."

Mrs. Jacobs took his bowl and walked towards the stove. She came back with a warming bowl of stew.

Jack finished that up in no time. Most of the time, newsies barely even get one serving of food that would fill them up. Unbidden, he thought of the other boys at Kloppman's.

When he finished, he smiled at the Jacobs. "Thank you for this, ma'am."

Mrs. Jacobs gave him a smile in return. "That's the least I can do for you when you helped David and Les here."

Sarah started cleaning the table and Jack let her get his bowl. "That ain't a problem, Davey and Les are a coupla born newsies. We could sell thousand of papes a week."

"That many?" Sarah asked when she settled back to her seat.

Jack nodded. "More when the headline's good."

"What makes a headline good?" she asked.

Jack shrugged. "Oh, you know. Catchy words like maniac, or corpse, or nude." He caught the look the Jacobs shared. "Excuse me. Maybe I'm talkin' too much."

Davey took over. "This is only the beginning, papa. The longer I work, the more money I'll make.” 

"You'll only work until I go back to the factory," Mr. Jacobs said. "Then you are going back to school, like you promised. Oh, Esther, is there still cake in the cabinet?"

"Enough to go around."

"Could you get that, Sarah, darling?" Mr. Jacobs said. Sarah grinned and stood up.

"Wait, what's happenin'?" Jack asked Davey.

"It was Papa's birthday today," Davey said. "Mama's managed to save enough to buy a little cake."

Sarah came back with chocolate cake in hand. It was evident it was leftovers, as there were only half of the cake left. Still, Mrs. Jacobs cut it evenly before distributing it around the table.

"Happy birthday, Papa," Sarah said when she got her slice. Davey and Jack were the last to be given.

"Happy birthday, Mr. Jacobs," Jack greeted him.

He nodded at Jack. Then, to his family: "This is going to heal, and they'll give me my job back. We'll make them."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

After dinner, Jack found himself sitting on the Jacobs' fire escape . Beside him Davey was staring at the sky. Moonlight fell in silver streams around them.

"The moon's not bigger in Santa Fe," Davey said, breaking the silence.

Jack looked at him. "You still on that?"

Davey huffed. "Because it's not true. Moon's the same everywhere, no matter where you are."

"Not in Santa Fe," Jack insisted.

"What's with Santa Fe, anyway?" Davey turned to Jack, questioning look on his face. "If your folks aren't there, then why d'you like it there?"

Jack tore his gaze from Davey. "New York stinks. It's only good if you got a strong door to lock it out. Out in Santa Fe, though…" Jack trailed off. Almost unthinkingly, Davey sat down and moved closer to Jack. Jack shivered at the distance. It was too far. It was too close.

"You can see the stars and the skies in Santa Fe," Jack said. The words tore out of his throat. He could not stop them even if he tried. He didn't want to. "Close your eyes. I'll show you Santa Fe."

"You've been there?" Davey asked. His eyes were wide -- and open.

"Nah, never been. Now, close your eyes, Davey."

Davey shook his head, smiling, but he closed his eyes.

Jack waved a hand in front of Davey's face. "They closed?"

"Yes."

"Okay." Jack smiled. He closed his eyes as well. Santa Fe was stitched behind his eyelids. "The sun out West was brighter, its rays yellower. Not like the sun here, more like…like sunset at Brooklyn Bridge but yellow and loud. The sky was blue, the clouds were huge and white. Out in the distance, mountains rise."

Jack could see Santa Fe. Vivid blue and yellow and orange.

"There was rails and trees and people were better there," Jack continued. His words came out easier; he already said it to Crutchie, and Race, and whoever would listen to him growing up. "Once you're there, people'll beg for you to stay! Take a deep breath, Davey."

Jack opened his eyes and saw Davey crack his open. "Wha--"

"Nah, nah, close your eyes!" Jack insisted. "Take a breath."

Davey's eyes were bright in the silver moonlight before it closed. Jack watched as Davey's chest rose and fell.

"New York air reeks," Jack said. Davey's arm pressed against his own when Jack moved closer. "It's all…dirt and stuff, but it's clean in Santa Fe! With all them trees and space, Santa Fe's clean and green. Can you see the trees there?"

A smile spread on Davey's face. Jack's chest stuttered. "Yeah."

Jack took the moment to stare at Davey. He had removed his vest and tie, now sitting in just a clean white shirt. Light freckles dusted his nose and cheeks; his chin was lifted up slightly to the moon.

He was beautiful. Not just in this moment but in every moment before and in moments that come later. The way he reached out to protect Les, his bravery even from the first day. All of it. Beautiful.

"Can I open my eyes now?" Davey said.

Jack laughed softly. "Yeah, you can."

Davey did, and Jack didn't know it was possible for his breath to falter anymore but they did. Davey's eyes were something, for sure, and moonlight turned them into magic.

"Are you scared?" Davey whispered, like he didn't want to break the moment. "About tomorrow?"

"I ain't." Jack inserted every bit of bravado in his voice, trying to convince Davey and himself of his bravery. "You?"

"Terrified," Davey admitted, his voice barely a breath.

Despite the mild breeze, Jack shivered. He answered Davey's question the way he would if Crutchie or Race or any of the boys asked him. Jack was so used to keeping his fears to himself if only the other newsies were spared of the terror he felt.

Davey was different, Jack realized. He could tell him if he was scared out of his mind and it would be okay.

Someone rapped the window. Both of them startled. "Ma said you need to come in," Sarah said.

Jack stood up. Davey's gaze followed him before he himself stood up. "I gotta go now."

"Why don't you stay for the night?" Davey asked.

Jack shook his head, already descending the fire escape. "Ah, no, thanks. I got a place of my own. But your family's real nice."

"All right," Davey said. "See you tomorrow."

He extended a hand and Jack stopped to shake it. Their hands lingered a second longer.

"Carrying the banner," Davey said. His voice was impossibly soft now.

Jack's voice was just as soft. "Carryin' the banner."

Davey turned to climb into the window. Through the window, Sarah's eyes were piercing, perceptive. After a second, she nodded.

Jack nodded back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> re davey's eyes: i imagine him as ben fankhauser. i Know david moscow (92sies davey) has The Bluest Eyes next to ben tyler cook but i litchrally cannot imagine davey as anyone other than ben. also, i have stared at his eyes for Way Too Long and i still didn't know if his eyes are brown or green or hazel because i am asian and literally the only eye color i see is dark brown. lemme know What's the Color of Ben Fankhauser's Eyes
> 
> re mr. jacobs's birthday: it really did fall at the start of the strike, though the movie's script said that his birthday is "tomorrow". however, jack ate dinner with the jacobs after medda's in the movie and he didn't meet the jacobs in broadway. as i moved the dinner one day, mr. jacobs's birthday would have been "today" instead of "tomorrow"
> 
> also, time is a construct.


	7. courage cannot erase our fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’re all scared, I am,” Davey said. “But courage isn’t only about not feeling fear. Courage is when we face fear. We are going to tell Pulitzer and everyone up there that we’re not going to blindly obey.”  
>  _Terrified_ , Davey from last night had admitted but now, there was no sign of terror on Davey’s face. He’s always been braver than Jack was.
> 
> or the day of the strike

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warning for violence, mentions/descriptions of bruises.**

When Jack found his way back to the lodging, the sky was ink black with moonlight as the only light. Kloppmann looked up at him when he walked in.

“There’s you,” he said. There were noticeable bags under his eyes and if Jack didn’t know any better, he’d say Kloppmann looked tired. “Them boys told me to wait up for you, told me ya got news.” He appraised Jack from head to toe, making him feel like he was eight again, led to this lodging by newsies who long since left. “I been hearing news. You all really on a strike?”

Jack shrugged. “Guess so.”

Kloppmann pursed his lips. If he’s going to tell them off, Jack didn’t have any energy for that. “Well,” he said, and Jack braced himself. “Best of luck to you boys. Tell me if ya need any help.” 

Jack gaped at Kloppman, long enough he clicked his tongue. “Well, what’re you waitin’ for?” Kloppmann asked. “They’s waiting for you.”

Jack scrambled into the lodging with more boys than there will ever be beds to fit them comfortably. Half the boys are already sleeping, the younger kids sleeping two in a bed. Those older waited up for him.

From his and Finch’s bed, Race jumped up, accustoming Jack. “What did Brooklyn --”

Jack’s body was already dropping with exhaustion. “Tomorrow, Racer. Davey’ll tell you everything.”

“Jack --”

“Tomorrow, everyone. We’s got a long day ahead tomorrow.” Jack clapped Crutchie’s shoulder, ruffled Albert’s and Specs’s head. “Sleep.”

“You all right, Jack?” Crutchie asked. He sat on Specs’ bed, his leg twisted in a way that told Jack it’s a bad day today. Jack winced, thinking about how he’s going to have to lead him up the rooftop.

Despite his worries, Jack plastered a smile. “Yeah,” he said, injecting more hope in his voice than he felt. “I got a good feelin’ on this one. Now go to bed, all of you. Davey’ll explain tomorrow, he’s better at explaining, anyways.”

Thankfully, the boys took the answer. They echoed back his good nights and if Jack ignored Race’s suspicious at him, he could almost believe it will be okay tomorrow.

Race was getting older now, better at being Manhattan’s second. Day after day, he’s catching Jack’s little lies to make everything better and more bearable for the younger kids. He’d make a good leader one day but as long as Jack was able, Race didn’t have to feel the immense burden yet. 

Race made it harder though; kid was too smart for his own good. He was picking fights to keep the Delanceys’ gaze on the other boys, something Jack used to do himself.

Shaking the thought away, Jack turned to Crutchie. “Ya need help up to the penthouse? I can carry you?”

Stubborn pride colored Crutchie’s face. “I don’t want nobody carrying me, you hear me?” But when he stood up, he gritted his teeth. “I might need help up, though.”

“Like old times?” Jack smiled for Crutchie’s sake. Back when they were both smaller, Jack helped Crutchie up the penthouse by letting him hold onto his ankles as he climbed up and reaching over the edge to pull Crutchie up when he landed on the rooftop.

Crutchie laughed. “Yeah.”

Climbing up was a little easier now than back when they were scrawny children. Jack had always slept better with the stars over him and fresh air helped Crutchie. Once Jack made it out to Santa Fe, he promised he’d bring Crutchie with him.

If he could bring everyone to Santa Fe with him, he’d do it. Santa Fe would do all of them good, with its fresh air and wide fields. Anything aside from the smelly, cramped New York would do them good.

“You okay, Jack?” Crutchie asked again when they were settling down to sleep. 

Jack nodded, smiling. “‘Course I am, kid. Now go ta sleep, we got a brand new day tomorrow.”

He knew the exact moment Crutchie’s breath evened out, signalling his sleep, but minutes passed by and Jack hadn’t fallen asleep.

Sleep evaded him that night. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The next morning, Jack refused to talk until Davey hadn’t arrived. The boys tried to wheedle and coax and tease it out of him and Jack kept his mouth dutifully shut. He didn’t think he’d be able to go through explaining this twice.

A collective sigh of relief swept through the newsies as Davey and Les bounded into the Square.

Davey took a look at Race’s crestfallen face. He’s still wearing clean pressed clothes, though it wasn’t as proper as the one he wore on the first day. His tie was gone but his shirt was still buttoned all the way up. “Is anyone else coming?”

“I got no clue,” Jack admitted, running a hand through his face.

Race turned to Davey. “ You seen Spot Conlon, right? What’d he say?”

“Sure, we seen him,” Jack said flatly.

“So, he’s with us?” Race said, voice wavering with hope.

Davey shared a look with Jack. “Well, that all depends on how you look at it,” hey said, trying to comfort the boys. “If you look and see Brooklyn, then they’re with us.”

“They want proof that we’re not gonna fold at the first sign of trouble,” Jack said, unable to keep his irritation in check. He failed. Albert and Race looked at each other.

“Are we?” Finch asked.

“No, we are not!” Jack insisted. “There’s us, there’s Harlem --”

Mush spoke up. “Not so fast, boss. Harlem wants to know what Brooklyn’s gonna do.”

Jack took a deep breath.  _ Now, these New York’s newsies’s gonna leave us alone?  _ “What about Queens?” he asked Specs.

“Queens’ll be right here backing us up --” Jack’s spirit soared -- “as soon as they get the nod from Brooklyn.”

Never mind.

Race frowned, rubbing his nape. “I got the same fish eye in Midtown,” he said. 

Jack ran a hand on his face again. The high of the strike yesterday faded and now only the terror of the future remained. 

Davey touched his arm, feather light. Tension bled from Jack, from the small of his back down to the place Davey’s fingers grazed. 

A rattle on the gates shocked everyone, heads sweeping around as the Delancey brothers unlocked the gates. Jack wanted to wipe the mocking grins off their face.

“Say, Oscar,” Morris said, flunging the gates open. He looked too pleased to see the boys dejected, and Jack might’ve taken the bait if nerves weren’t eating him up too much. “Looks like it was bum information about a strike happening here today. Not that I’m complaining, my skull-busting arm could use a day of rest!”

They laughed as they walked up to the distribution window. The newsies’ eyes followed them; their words cut deep.

Les turned to Davey. “Are we doin’ the right thing?”

Davey gripped both his shoulders. “Sure we are.” He put on a comforting smile, biting his lips. He caught Jack’s eyes.

“Maybe we just put this off a couple days,” Race said.

“No, we can’t just put this off!” Davey cried. He moved to grip his shoulders like he did Les but stopped when he saw the hesitant look Race sported. Race shook his head and sidestepped Davey, storming off to the side.

Davey swiveled to Jack, eyes pleading. “Say something,” he said, stalking closer to him. “Tell them if we back off now, they’ll never listen to us again.”

Jack’s hand reached toward Davey. Davey gripped it tightly before letting go. 

“Hey, we can’t back down now, alright,” Jack said, coming closer to Race. Race looked up at him, uncertain. He could feel the newsies’ stare on him, grasping at hope and chance. “No matter who does or doesn’t show. Like it or not, now is when we take a stand.”

“How’s about we just not show up for work?” Finch suggested. Worry etched on his face. “That’ll send the message.”

“They’ll just replace us!” Jack cried. “They need to see us stand our ground!” The boys dispersed, hands on hair and forehead in distress. Jack turned to Davey. “Davey, you tell ‘em.”

Davey looked...lost, like words left him now. “I--” 

His eyes flitted from Jack to the boys around Newsie Square bent in disappointment. Taking a deep breath, he approached Race first.

“I know the odds aren’t with us,” he said. His voice was soft but it carried from one newsie to another. Davey clasped his hand round Race’s as he talked. “But we need to continue on, even amidst all odds. We win the strike a minute at a time.”

Crutchie ran towards Jack. “Hey, Jack, look what I made!” He raised his crutch, growling. His crutch had a flag with the words  _ STRIKE!  _ tied on it. “Good, huh?” He said, smiling proudly. Jack ruffled his hair, chest aching.

Race strode forward and inspected the flag. “That’s great!” To Davey, he said: “That’s pitiful.”

Les followed Race as he walked out again. “Don’t be so quick to judge,” he told him. “Maybe Pulitzer will see it from out his window and feel sorry for us.”

Jack called out to Specs, who was up on the Greeley Statue. “Hey, Specs, any sign of reinforcements?”

Specs stood on his toes, then shook his head. 

Jack gripped Davey closer. “Davey…” He pleaded.

He squeezed Jack closer. Finch was closer, and so Davey walked up to him. “We’re all scared, I am,” he said. Head turned to Davey, everyone hanging onto his words. “But courage isn’t only about  _ not  _ feeling fear. Courage is when we face fear. We are going to tell Pulitzer and everyone up there that we’re not going to blindly obey.”

_ “Terrified,”  _ Davey from last night had admitted but now, there was no sign of terror on Davey’s face. He’s always been braver than Jack was.

“Look, we ain’t many,” Jack said. He threw an arm over Davey. Immediately, Davey’s arm wounded through his waist. “But just because we’re small don’t mean they get to beat us off our work. We will show Brooklyn and all them boys that we ain’t playin’.”

“They may not be here, but we’ll still fight for them,” Davey said.

“They’s still our brothers,” Jack told them.

The bell rang, loud and ominous. When Jack’s gaze swept through the crowd of newsies, he found Katherine and Denton on the side. She gave him an almost imperceptible nod and Jack smiled.

“Are we really doing this?” Crutchie asked Jack.

Jack disentangled himself from Davey to ruffle Crutchie’s hair. “Yeah, we are.” To the boys, he pulled himself up, making himself appear more confident than he was. “The strike starts right damn now.”

He and the newsies fell in a line as Weasel walked in, a sneer on his face. He assessed every single one of them, arranging his bowler's hat as he stared them down.

“The sun is up, the birds is singin’, it’s a beautiful day to crack some heads, ain’t it? Step right up and get your papes.”

Morris walked right up to Race, whose hand curled into a fist but otherwise stayed still. “Hey, you’re workin’ or trespassing? What’s your pleasure?”

From the back of the group, three boys strode forward. They were younger, and Jack knew these boys did not stay with them at Kloppmann’s. They were one of the kids who had a family, much like Davey.

Murmurs rose from the boys. Jack saw Finch hold Albert back. Mike and Ike exchanged a glance.

Davey’s eyes followed them. “Hey, who are they?”

“Scabs, all of ‘em,” Jack spat. The three boys stiffened but continued on to the distribution window.

“They think they can just waltz in here and take our jobs,” Finch cried.

Jojo exclaimed, loud enough for the entire newsies to hear. “Let’s soak ‘em!”

The guys surged forward but Davey’s voice rang, stopping them on their track. “We all stand together!” he yelled. His arms were spread out, holding back Romeo and Mush “Or we don’t have a chance. Jack!”

Jack pushed Race off him, who was struggling to get to the boys. “No, I hear ya.” He turned to face the three boys, frozen as they stared at the newsies they just sold papers with yesterday. “Listen, fellas, I know someone put you’s up to this. They’re probably payin’ you some extra money too, yeah?” The guilty look on their faces were answers enough. “Well it ain’t right! Pulitzer thinks we are gutter rats with no respect for nothin’, including each other. Is that what we are, huh? Well, we stab each other in the back and yeah, that’s who we are. But if we stand together, we change the whole game.”

Jack turned around, looking at the boys. Race, Manhattan’s second. Albert. Crutchie leaning against his crutch. Specs, with his glasses so full of scratches it was a miracle he could see from it. Mike and Ike. Romeo. Davey and Les.

They were young, too young to feel the weight of the world on their shoulders. Too young to feel hunger gnawing at their stomach every night, too young to feel fists on them for the color of their skin. 

Jack’s chest hurted.

“It ain’t just about us.” Desperation clawed on Jack’s voice. “All across this city, there are boys and girls who should be out playin’, or goin’ to school but instead they are slavin’ to support themselves and -- and their folks.” He was yelling now. “Ain’t no crime in being poor. No, not a one of us complains if the work we do is hard. All we ask is a square deal.”

Jack faced the boys now, pleading. “Fellas, for the sake of all the kids in every sweatshop, factory, and slaughterhouse in this town, I beg you. Throw down your papers and join the strike.”

Les ran up to stand behind Jack. “Please?”

The oldest of the three ran up to Jack, bringing his face close to Jack. Jack could hear Davey calming the boys down but he dared not look away from the boy. After a long second, the boy removed his bag and threw in on the floor.

“I’m with ya!” he shouted. Cheers erupted from the other newsies. Hands clasped his back and ruffled his hair when he joined the newsies.

Davey approached the other two. “Come on.”

The other newsies surrounded the two boys, some egging them on to join them, the other begging.

“What they’re doing to us is wrong but we can correct these wrongs if we’re united,” Davey said. Jack came over and squeezed his shoulders once, just for luck.

Davey’s words must’ve touched one of the boys, for he threw down the paper. Mush’s cheer was the loudest.

The lone scab grabbed the boy before he could join the newsies. “You’re kiddin’ me, right?”

“At the end of the day, who’re you gonna trust? Them --” he waved his arm to the cheering newsies -- “or them.” He threw his bag at the Delanceys. 

The lone scab came to a quick decision. “Oh, what the hell. My father’s gonna kill me anyway!” He throws down his papers.

Jack could have cried at that moment. Davey’s hands landed on each of the boys’ shoulders in thanks and Jack distantly noted Kath and Denton, safe by the Greeley statue. Kath was running towards them, her voice barely perceptible above the yells of the newsies.

“Jack, Jack!” Katherine’s voice managed to rise above all the noise. “Get everyone, we’re going to take a picture!”

Jack grabbed whoever was the closest. It was Davey. “Everyone, come here!”

The boys rushed forward, squeezing themselves so closely Davey was pressed in on him. Jack laughed and threw one arm around him and the other on Henry. Davey’s arm wound around Jack’s waist, while his other hand landed on Les’s shoulder.

Katherine beamed as a blinding flash captured the boys in their biggest smile. 

As soon as the photographer said it was okay, Jack ran to Katherine, laughing. Behind her, Denton was talking to Davey. “Ya got that?” he yelled, mirth clear in his voice.

“Clearly!” she replied.

Jack took one paper lying on the street and tore in clean in half, throwing the paper at Katherine. Katherine, not wanting to be one-upped, did the same as well. 

Across the square, papers were thrown and torn and stomped on the ground. Laughter echoed and from the corner of his eyes, Jack saw the boys hugging each other.

“Jack...” Crutchie, staring at the gates, said. His tone made many newsies turn around.

Standing on the other side of the gates were an entire army of officers, too many to be dealing with just a bunch of kids. They advanced menacingly, their clean uniform a contrast against the newsies’ battered clothes. The boys took a step back.

“Cheese it, it’s the bulls!” Jack yelled. Katherine ran away to the safety of the Greeley Statue, Denton hot on her heels.

When Jack turned back, Weasel was walking straight up to him. In his hand was a metal bat. Jack held a hand back to keep the boys out.

“It’s time these kids learn a lesson,” Weasel growled. Morris and Oscar stood beside him, fist curled.

“Newsies…” Jack could feel the electricity in the air, the fight in their blood. “Get ‘em!”

It was as if Jack’s words let out all the anger the boys had. Jack ran back to throw bundled papers at the bulls. It was impossible to keep notes of everyone but he saw Davey snatch Les out of Oscar’s hands. He put him in a barrel and rolled him out to Jack.

“Keep him outta here!” Davey yelled.

When the barrel rolled up to Jack’s feet, he pulled Les out, who winced.

“Ya good?” he asked the boy.

Les nodded. “Yeah, yeah. Arm’s hurtin’, though. Oscar’s twisted it a bit, but I don’t think it’s broken.”

“Go home now, before it gets broken,” Jack said.

“But David --”

“I’ll take care o’ Davey,” he promised. Les stared at him, nodded, and was out before long.

Jack turned around just in time to see Morris punch Davey.

_ Jesus Christ. _ Jack ran over and pushed Morris off Davey. “Les is out. I made him go home,” Jack yelled amidst the shouts of boys. “You okay?” Morris was a hell of a puncher, as Jack could personally attest.

“Yeah, yeah,” Davey nodded. His face was going to bruise badly. He put up his fist, which was scabbed and bloody. “I landed one on him first.”

Jack laughed at this wonderful boy in front of him. 

Before Jack could do anything stupid, like kiss him, a whistle snapped through the air. All of them froze. 

Time slowed when Snyder stepped into the Square. The other boys who’ve been in the Refuge backed out, though some few lucky ones did not know Snyder the Spider.

Jack’s heart dropped. He couldn’t have moved even if he tried.

Romeo, one of the kids who had the pleasure of never seeing the Refuge, ran up to Snyder. “It’s about time you got here,” he cried, mistaking him for a savior. “They’re slaughtering us!”

Snyder slapped him as a response. He stayed on the ground for a while.

Before was chaos, but now it was just hell. Jack’s feet acted before he could think about it. He ran: up the gates, through the fire escape. Jack was almost out when --

“Jack!”

It was Crutchie, held back by the Delancey brothers.. Among the boys pushing to get out of the Square, Crutchie’s yell rang loud.

“Jack, Finch, Romeo, help!” he cried. There was movement on the corner, like boys scrambling to get to Crutchie but Snyder was closer. He grabbed Crutchie’s crutch and hit him. Again, and again, and again until Jack couldn't breathe.

Jack was a stone up on the fire escape. He couldn’t move, or talk, or walk away. If Snyder saw him then and there, he’d be dead.

“It’s off to the Refuge for you, little man.” Snyder spat. “Take him away!”

It was only when the Delanceys dragged Crutchie away did his legs cooperate. He ran, and run he did.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Jack ran. 

He doesn’t know where he was running to or where he’s going to go. He’s just running, running, running.

Synder and the bulls. The bruise on Romeo’s face. The punch Davey received. Blood and blood and blood, all of it on Jack’s hands.

And Crutchie. Crutchie getting beaten, Crutchie being dragged away. Crutchie calling Jack as Synder got his slimy hands on him.

God damn it! Crutchie was his friend -- no, no, he was his  _ brother _ and Jack just let the Bulls take him to the Refuge! Jack could have helped him! He could have jumped in, took Crutchie away.

Some union leader he was.

The bruise under his eye throbbed but it’s nothing compared to the pains on his chest. He ran. Jack ran. He left those boys when they needed him the most.

God damn it!

The door of Medda’s theater was in front of him before he even realized it. He didn’t know if he knocked or not but Medda opened the door.

“Oh, Jack,” she said, and it was so full of  _ concern  _ Jack broke down and cried.

Jack was tired. He was so tired. 

Medda drew him closer. Jack heaved and cried and he might have ruined Medda’s clothes but the tears won’t stop coming.

Medda didn’t say a word. Her hands ran through his hair, shushing and comforting him softly Jack remembered a moment from long ago. His mother, red hair glinting in the sun, comforting a young Jack the same way.

It was so long ago. Jack was young then.

Finally, his sobs subsided and he tore himself from Medda’s hug.

“I want to go,” he said quietly.

Medda lifted his chin, inspecting the bruise on his face. “Go where, Jack?”

“Santa Fe.” Medda knew Santa Fe; she had been there when Jack sometimes babbled about Santa Fe as he painted a backdrop. “I’m tired of New York. I’m tired of lousy headlines and fat old men. I want to go to Santa Fe.”

“Then go,” Medda said, like it was easy. “But first, rest. Stay here for a while. Let yourself heal.”

“Ya’d let me stay?”

“As long as you need.” 

“It won’t be long,” Jack said.

Medda hugged Jack again. “If you’d like, there’s another backdrop I’d like you to paint. The show’s doing well I could pay you now.”

“Miss Medda --”

“It could help you,” Medda told him. “With Santa Fe.”

Jack took a breath. He could use a distraction, and the money would certainly help. “Thank you, Miss Medda.”

“Anytime, Jack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i started this newsies journey a solid davey stan, but i thought about jack and his arc for one (1) second and i cried. hence, the jack angst i'm sorry i love my boy but he has so many angst possibility. it will Get Worse.
> 
> there will be update on the newsbians on the next few chapters but they will be coming! i promise
> 
> oh, and happy (two days before) bi visibility day!!! love y'all!


	8. watch what happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, i'm han and i have no idea how to start or end a chapter

When Crutchie was dragged out of the square, Denton’s grip on Katherine’s wrist was all that was keeping her from darting forward. Around her, panicked boys were freeing. Her ears rung with shouts and metal bats striking concrete.

“Katherine, we have to go!” Denton said. When Katherine turned to look at him, she saw none of her panic in his eyes.

“But, Denton --”

“Kath,” said Denton calmly, the voice of a man who marched through hills and saw war. “We are here to write and watch. We have to go now.”

Katherine shook her head. “No, but Crutchie!” She struggled but when she turned back, the square was already empty. Save for the trampled papers at her ground, Newsie Square was deathly silent.

The faintest sound of a car whirring past filled the air.

“We could have helped!” Katherine cried. Denton’s hold loosened, trusting her not to run after the car.

“Yes, we could have,” Denton said. “By not being thrown into jail too. By writing this story with the fury it deserves. Kath,” he said, sensing Katherine’s indignant reply, “this is a battle we journalists face. Our job is not to save those we write ourselves; our job is to elevate those stories. Make their plights known. Who’s going to write their stories when you’re silenced?”

Katherine kept quiet. Denton continued, “I know that’s not fair, but this is the role we play. If you’re still troubled, we could try to follow up at the Refuge but I don’t know how long it will take.”

“That would...” Katherine trailed off. “Well, that’d be nice. Thank you, Denton.”

Denton smiled. “Keep your chin up. And don’t lose your passion; there’s a lot more stories to be told.”

Katherine nodded. She absentmindedly followed Denton as they walked back to the office. The streets they walked by were serene and the total disparity of this normal scene just a stone throw’s away from the violent dispersal made Katherine’s head spin.

A murmuring on the alley just around  _ The Sun _ ’s office piqued Katherine’s attention. 

It was Race, huddled in a circle with Elmer, Specs, and Albert. He was talking in a low voice, comforting the others if Katherine had to guess. Behind him were the twins Mike and Ike, listening in.

Katherine halted. “You go ahead, Denton,” she said, not keeping her eyes off the boys. “I’ll catch up.”

Denton followed her gaze. “Be careful, Katherine.”

Katherine nodded. “I will. Be back at the office soon.”

Denton hummed his assent and Katherine walked towards the boys. At the sound of her footsteps, Race looked up first, his mouth dropping open when he recognized her.

“Kath? What’re you doing here?” he asked. The boys twisted around and jumped up.

Katherine waved her hand. “There’s no need for that.” She eyed the forming bruises on their faces. “Are you all okay?”

“This?” Race pointed to his face. “This is nothing. We’re gonna be back on our feets in no time.”

Katherine let these boys have their pride. Race was the oldest of this crew, and he looked no older than sixteen. “Where is everyone else?”

Specs shrugged. “We don’t know,” he said. He adjusted his glasses, which Katherine noticed was filthy. She didn’t know if it was a result of the scuffle or if his glasses have always been that scratched. “We’ll probably know when we get back to Kloppmann’s.”

“We should get goin’, Kath,” Race said. “We need to know who else got arrested.”

“Crutchie,” Elmer said. Mike -- or Ike, Katherine can’t tell the two apart -- nodded. 

“We tried to help him but...” Mike or Ike explained and Katherine nodded. If Katherine was struggling to get to Crutchie, the boys who considered him their brother must have tried twice as hard as she did. 

“Well, if you need to go to the other boys, I wouldn’t keep you,” Katherine said. “Be safe, all of you.”

Katherine turned to leave the alleyway, but Race called out, “Hey, Kath?”

“Yeah?”

He stood there, surrounded by boys all younger than him. Specs and Albert were close to Race's age, but Elmer and the brothers looked like they were thirteen. It slammed into Katherine like a wave, how young all these kids were.

Race looked at her like Jack did, at the Brooklyn Bridge. Like he was holding these boys together with all his strength. He smiled slightly.

“Good luck with your news,” he said. 

Katherine tried to smile back. “Thank you.”

She will write this article even if it kills her. For these boys.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The next newsie she saw was Davey. He was pacing the block of  _ The Sun _ , and like the other boys, he’s got a bruise purpling on his cheek.

“Davey!” she called and Davey almost sagged in relief at her sight.

“Katherine,” he said. Katherine walked up to him as close as appropriate and squeezed his arm gently.

“What are you doing here?” Katherine asked him. It was the first time Katherine saw him in rumpled clothes. There was either soot or dirt on his shoulder and a frayed hem on his sleeve.

“Don’t wanna go home yet,” he said, accent heavy. “And I was waiting for my sister.”

Passerbys stared at the two of them; what a sight they must have made, the prim girl and the bruised newsie. Katherine steered him to the side.

“Where’s Les?” Katherine racked her brain for the last time she saw Les. The Newsie Square was a riot of boys and bulls, with papers strewn overhead and she couldn’t remember the last time she saw Les. “Oh, no,” she said, a horrible thought forming in her head. “Is he --”

Davey shook his head, much to Katherine’s relief. “No, no. I told Jack to make him go home. He listens to Jack.”

Katherine sighed. “Yeah, he listens to Jack.” Her mind backtracked on one of his statements. “You have a sister?” she asked.

Davey nodded. His mind was still moving quickly, his eyes darting everywhere. He cannot seem to stop moving. “Older. What are you doing here?”

Katherine pointed to one of the buildings. “That’s  _ The Sun’s  _ office.”

“Oh, am I keeping you? You don’t have to --”

“Davey,” Katherine said, “it’s okay.”

Davey nodded. Paused. Nodded again. “You seen any of the boys?”

“I saw Race and the others on the way here,” Katherine said. 

Davey started to move. “I gotta go there, I --”

“Davey, Dave, hey.” She reached out to stop him. “They’re going back to their lodging to reconvene. Do you even know where that is?”

Davey deflated. “Well, no, but --”

“You will meet again tomorrow,” Katherine assured him. “For now, wait for your sister and come up with a plan.”

Silence descended on both of them. Katherine wanted to reach over to comfort Davey but she wasn’t sure if it would be enough. After a few more seconds of silence, Katherine opened her mouth to say goodbye when a loud gasp echoed through the streets. Beside her Davey stiffened.

“David, what happened to you?” 

Katherine looked up and her breath was punched out of her. Running towards them, hair flying about, was the girl she saw in the factory the other day. She was wearing a light blue dress now, but her hair was as warm cinnamon as before, her brown eyes wide with worry.

Katherine watched as the girl inspected Davey’s face. She didn’t seem to notice Katherine yet, so engrossed as she was to Davey’s bruises.

“There was a dispersal at the Square,” he said, letting the girl turn his head this and that. Katherine kept her silence beside Davey. For once, words left Katherine. “It didn’t look that bad, did it?”

The girl sputtered. “Didn’t look that bad? Mama would  _ freak out _ .” The girl faced Katherine then, mouth open to say something but she stopped when she saw her. Recognition flickered in her eyes.

There was a spatter of light freckles on her cheek, her lips light red and parted open. Time slowed.

“Oh, Sarah, this is Katherine,” Davey told the girl.  _ Sarah.  _ “She writes for  _ The Sun  _ and she’s writing the article about the strike. Kath, this is my sister Sarah.” Both of them stared at each other. Neither seemed to move an inch. “Do you know each other?” Davey asked hesitantly.

Sarah shook her head. “No, no.” She extended a hand. “It was nice to meet you, Katherine.”

Her name rolled off Sarah’s tongue smoothly. Electricity flowed from Katherine’s fingers to her elbow when their hands met. “You too, Sarah.” 

“Are you okay?” Sarah asked. Beside her, Davey turned to her, frowning. “I mean,” she fumbled, “you were there at the square?” she said, her statement turning into a question. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No, I’m not hurt,” Katherine said. “Are you?” 

Katherine’s eyes immediately widened as the words left her mouth. Without waiting for Sarah to reply, she turned to Davey and said, “I better go. Denton and I should probably start the article if we want it published tomorrow. Best of luck, Davey.”

When she looked over her shoulder before entering the office, Sarah was looking back. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Before Katherine got to work, she knocked at Denton’s door. At his reply, Katherine pushed open the door to find Denton sitting behind his desk, writing on his notebook with a terrifying speed. 

“How are we going to write this article?” she asked. Katherine had collaborated with other reporters once or twice but she hadn’t had a clue on how this worked with hard news.

“Have a seat, Katherine,” Denton said, pointing at the seat in front of his desk. Katherine obliged. “I’m writing up David’s interview. You can arrange Jack’s interview and we can figure out how to write this.”

Katherine dug up her notebook, where Jack’s answers were hastily scribbled. “I was thinking of making it from the boys’ perspective. You know, just like you said. David and Goliath. Jack told me he was also working since he was eight.”

“Yes, yes, the underdogs fighting the kings of New York.” Denton wrote that down. “How about you write what you gather from the strike this morning and your interview with Jack and I will do the same with David.”

“Of course, Denton,” Katherine said, standing up. “I’ll give you the full draft before work ends.”

“Thank you. Oh, and Katherine?”

Katherine, already halfway out the room, spun around. “Yes?”

“As a friend, I already know the answer but I have to ask as your co-writer and editor,” Denton said, looking at her. “I suppose your relation with  _ The World _ ’s owner will have no effect on the way you write, right?”

Katherine took a sharp breath. Her familial ties with Pulitzer was an open secret at  _ The Sun _ , despite Katherine’s wishes to keep it to herself. So far, there hadn’t been much issues about it, though quips here and there were abound. 

“I intend no ill will --” Denton said.

Katherine interrupted, “There was none taken. I assure you my ties with Mr. Pulitzer will have no effect on this article.”

“Then I shall wait for your draft before work ends.” Denton smiled.

Katherine nodded at him and stalked off into her own desk. In her bag was Jack’s interview and every blink was a vivid snapshot of this morning: Davey going around each boy to talk to, with Katherine too far to make out his words. It was evident by the way the tension bled from each boy’s shoulders that Davey was comforting them.

Jack and Davey, arm in arm as they rallied the boys.

Papers flying as Jack ran towards her, screaming gleefully.

The Bulls. The screams. Race and Davey. 

Sarah.

The kids were too young to shoulder this burden. It was all so unfair.

Katherine’s chest was burning as she sat down behind her desk. There was nothing in her mind but anger for the boys. Her fingers flew at the typewriter, and the only sounds she heard were the taps of her keys.

Like she said, she will write this article even if it kills her. For the boys.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Come the end of work, Katherine found herself seated in the same chair she sat hours before, resisting the urge to tap the table in worry as Denton read her article quietly. 

Finally, he looked up. Katherine regarded him nervously. “Well?”

“This is brilliant, Katherine,” he said. “I would only have to incorporate David’s interview and we’re good.”

“I don’t have to change anything?” Katherine asked.

“No, no, you’ve done well,” Denton said. “But can I ask what your driving force was in writing this? The words were powerful, scathing. Forgive my theatrics, but there was fury behind this, rightfully so.”

“Should I change it?” Katherine asked.

“No,” Denton said, shaking his head. “As I’ve said, it’s fine. But this...energy you have. If you know where this was coming from, you could utilize it in your future articles.”

“You think I could really write more news?” Hope was rising in Katherine, further flamed by Denton’s encouraging nod.

“If you write with the same tenacity as  _ this _ ...” Denton trailed off. “Well, they’d be a fool if they don’t let you write news. Where is it coming from?”

“It’s just...” Katherine shook her head, pausing to gather her thoughts. “It was all so unfair. Jack and Davey and Race and all those kids, they were so young to be doing this. They should be going to school but they weren’t. It's just not fair.”

Denton looked pensive. “That passion of yours for others, that makes your stories different. It makes your reader care because you care. Don’t ever lose that, Katherine. We will need more people like you.”

“I won’t, Denton. I promise that.” Katherine stood up.

“I look forward to working with you in the future. And I will update you about what we can do about Crutchie.”

Katherine’s grin was as bright as Denton’s as they shook hands goodbye. Her spirits were high as she journeyed her way to her house, greeting the few familiar newsies she saw. They remained high even as she saw her father coming home the same time as her.

“Good evening, Father,” she called. She won’t let him ruin her mood.

Father looked at her quizzingly. “You are awfully chipper. Is it because of that strike those boys organized against me?”

Katherine paused. They stood in front of the door but no one moved to open it. “How do you know that?”

“You were there at the Square,” her father said.

“I was writing an article for it,” Katherine said. “My first news, aren’t you proud of me?”

“Of you, certainly, but not those boys,” her father replied. “They were organizing a strike against  _ me _ . What do they know, New York need no more of those gutter rats.”

“Those boys are perfectly nice,” Katherine defended them. “Jack and Davey and all of them.” She was absolutely regretting this conversation. Without waiting for a reply, she opened the door and stalked in. “Excuse me, Father.”

Her mood entirely buoyed, she left him standing on the door. God, she hoped these boys would win. She hoped she could help more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love katherine so so much. i love women characters who are all "i am level headed and composed" but in reality is actually impulsive. we will see More Newsbians l8r but for now, hope you enjoy them finding each other Pretty at a distance. they will be talking soon, i promise
> 
> on another note, i am. uh. Stuck at the last chapter because online classes are draining me. however, i still think i could update on time (monday & friday, gmt +8). let's just hope i finish this over the weekend hngg


	9. king of new york

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katherine Plumber, a flurry of orange and green dress, ran in, a joyous grin gracing her face.
> 
> “Good morning, gentlemen!” The grin slipped when she saw the boys’ dejected state. “Oh, would you get a load of these glum mugs.” She patted Elmer, who looked up to smile sadly at her. “Why, can these really be the same boys who made front page of _The New York Sun?_ ” She pulled out the paper, and up there, above the fold, were the picture they took yesterday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **tw for bruises, i guess**
> 
> also, take a shot (of water) every time i use an adverb. be hydrated, my guys, gals, and non-binary pals

Sarah was unusually quiet all the way back to their tenement. 

This David took notice of. Knowing Sarah, he knew she’d prod David about the bruise and the strike, and she did. But her mind was somewhere else. That too was obvious.

“Are you okay?” he asked her.

Sarah looked at him, mouth pursed. “Huh?” Before David could repeat the question, she answered, “Oh, I’m fine. I wasn’t the one with a bruise on my face.” She blinked. “Ma would  _ flip _ , David.”

“I know.”

She nodded. David didn’t know if she noticed the looks people were throwing him or she was just ignoring it entirely. 

Silence again. 

“You knew Katherine?” David asked, just to break the quiet..

“No.” It was an obvious lie but David did not push her. She kept her silence until they were in front of their door. 

Sarah turned to him. “Mama’s not going to like this,” she informed him.

“Just open the door.”

Sarah knocked on the door and stepped back as Mama opened it. David almost stepped back as Mama gasped the moment she saw him. Her hands flew to her mouth.

“David!” she exclaimed, opening the door and letting them in. “What on earth happened? Les came home and had to have his arm in a sling --”

“What? He broke his arm?” David said, search for Les.

Papa, settled on the seat, caught sight of David’s face. “What happened to you, David?” he asked, struggling to stand up.

Mama ran to him. “Oh, sit down, Meyer, you’d hurt your leg,” she said, holding him.

David had other things in mind. “Where’s Les? Is he okay?”

“Sit down, will you?” Mama scolded him. On instinct, he did. Sarah sat next to him. “Les is asleep, he’s okay, his arm is a little hurting so I figured it’d be better for him to not move it. I can’t say the same to you.”

David shook his head. “I got off lucky, Ma. I’m not even the worse off of us.”

“Then, pray tell, who is?” Mama yelled. David fell quiet. “Your brother comes home crying about his arm and now  _ you  _ come with that...that bruise! David!” She came closer to him, inspecting the bruise. David hissed in pain when she pressed her finger in.

The four of them fell silent. The weight of what was happening descended on them, awakened by the sight of David’s purpling bruise.

“One of my friends got arrested,” David said. He did not raise his voice but it seemed louder in this silence. “Crutchie. I heard him calling for Jack and the folks as he got dragged to the Refuge. We just can’t stop this, Ma.” Beside him, Sarah took his hand. “If we stopped, they’d think they can just stomp us on the ground. We -- we can handle it. We’d find ways. But the other boys… they got nothing but this.” David remembered Jack’s words, and he repeated them. “Just because we make pennies doesn’t give others the right to walk all over us.” 

Mama sighed, closing her eyes, as Papa reached out to hold her hand. For a horrible eternity of a second, she didn’t talk and David feared she’d make him stop working as a newsie. Worse, she’d make him stop the strike.

Mama opened her eyes. “Well,” she said, choosing her words slowly, “I suppose this is what I get for raising selfless boys.” She stood up and patted David on the cheek, her fingers over his bruise lightly. “Hold onto those boys as they hold onto each other. It might just save you. How was Jack?”

David shook his head. “I don’t know, Ma. When the Bulls came, we just dispersed.” Before he left, he saw Race drag Albert and Elmer behind him, Specs running with Mike and Ike just a few yards away. He didn’t know where Jack was, or Finch or Romeo or Jojo or Mush.

“Are you going back tomorrow?” Sarah asked.

“I gotta,” David said.

“I wish I could be there with you,” Sarah said earnestly. “I wish I could help, or protect you.”

Mama turned on her, glaring. “Don’t even think about it. I’m already losing my mind with David here.”

Sarah caught David’s eye, giving him such a vivid eye roll without actually doing so David had to stifle a smile. 

Mama stood up. “I’m going to go to Mrs. Vandenburg again. It seems like the Jacobs boys can’t keep themselves from getting hurt. Sarah, look after them. See they didn’t get any more bruises while I’m gone.”

At this, David couldn’t stop his laugh. If anything, Sarah would be the one joining them in whatever fight they’d find themselves in. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The next morning found the newsies huddled at Jacobi’s Deli. When David opened the door, Les cried out and immediately ran for Specs. David turned to Race, who was sitting the closest to the door. He sported a black eye himself.

“You got hell of a bruise there, Davey,” Race noted. “Who gotcha?”

“A Bull and Morris,” David said. “You have quite a bruise too.”

Race bowed mockingly. “Courtesy of one Oscar Delancey, son of a bitch,” he spat.

“Anyone else got hurt?” David asked but he realized quickly that that was a stupid question. Almost every newsie around him had a shiner or a bandage.

“You mean ‘cept Crutchie?” Race shrugged, though David could see the fatigue in there. “We ain’t so bad.”

David reached out to clasp Race in the shoulder. He was almost as tall as David, only an inch or so shorter.”Hey, we’ll get him back.”

Race shrugged again. “Yeah, sure. Once we win this strike.”

“And we will win,” David said, inserting every bit of bravado in his voice. “We won’t stop until we win, okay? And we’ll get Crutchie back.”

Before Race could reply, Albert ambled up to them. “You ain’t looking good there, Davey.”

“Race had pointed that out,” David told him.

Albert shook his head. “No. I meant...” he trailed off. “You look lost.”

“You’s smart, Davey,” Albert said. “You know what I mean.”

David looked away. He knew what Albert was trying to say. In the midst of these bruised boys, Jack’s absence was a gaping wound.

Shaking his head, David tried to divert attention. “Everyone got home safe?” David asked. 

“All ‘cept Jack,” Race said. “We waited for him to show up last night, but he never did.”

“Maybe he’s out there somewhere,” David said. “He’s got places he can stay for a while, right.” He was grasping at straws, he knew this, but it’s better than the alternative: that he got hurt or got arrested or worse.

Race and Albert shared a look. “Yeah, sure,” Race said, sounding as convinced as David felt, “It’s Jack. He knows lotsa places.”

David caught sight of the cut Albert covered with a bandage. It wasn’t properly cleaned, washed and hastily covered. “Did anyone look after your bruises?” David asked him.

Albert waved his hand dismissively. “Ain’t the worst we ever had, Davey. Calm down.”

“I could run to my house real quick,” David said. His fingers itched to move; he had to  _ do  _ something, to keep moving. “I could borrow our first aid kit and --”

Race surged forward to grasp David’s shoulder. “Davey, you’d done enough. It’s okay.”

David opened his mouth to argue, but Jacobi chose that moment to walk up to the boys. He’s holding a tray full of glasses of water and he handed them out. Race dropped his hold on David to accept the water Jojo handed him.

“Drink up, boys,” Jacobi said. “ And don’t ever say I don’t give you nothin’. And before you say water is nothing, just ask a fish. In the desert.” He nodded sagely, like he gave them valuable advice before he was off again to the kitchens.

When he was out of sight, Albert turned to the boys. “Why do old people talk?” he said to no one in particular.

“To prove they’s still alive,” Race replied, to which the newsies drank deeply.

As soon as they finished their water, the door of the Deli opened. Katherine Plumber, a flurry of orange and green dress, ran in, a joyous grin gracing her face. 

“Good morning, gentlemen!” The grin slipped when she saw the boys’ dejected state. “Oh, would you get a load of these glum mugs.” She patted Elmer, who looked up to smile sadly at her. “Why, can these really be the same boys who made front page of  _ The New York Sun _ ?” She pulled out the paper, and up there, above the fold, were the picture they took yesterday.

Life was injected on each of the newsies. David ran towards Katherine, face as flushed with mirth as Kath’s, but by the time he was there, the boys already crowded her.

Race got the paper. “Would you look at that! That’s me!”

Romeo snatched the paper away. “Where’s me, where’s me?”

The paper ended up on Jojo’s hands. “Just wait till my old man gets a load of this.” He pulled the paper closer to his chest. “I won’t be last in line for the tub tonight!”

David turned to Katherine, his face reflecting the giddiness on hers. “You got us in the papes?”

“You got yourselves in the paper,” Katherine corrected him. 

Davey grinned at her and rushed forward to sweep her in a hug. Katherine’s laughter bubbled across the diner.

Specs came forward and grabbed Katherine’s hand, spinning her in a circle that left her giggling. Soon, the newsies came forward to hug Katherine or doff their caps.

Once they were finished, Mush got the paper and stood atop a table. “‘Newsies stop the world’,” he read. “Now that’s a headline even Elmer could sell!”

“You’re incredible, Katherine!” David marvelled.

“It’s all you,” she said. “I’m just writing what you do.”

“Still!” 

“What else you got?” Specs asked.

Katherine turned serious. “Mine’s the only story that ran. Pulitzer declared a blackout on strike news, so even I’m shut down now.”

“Can he do that?” David exclaimed.

“Apparently, he can.” There was so much bitterness on Katherine’s voice. “Is there any news about Jack?” she asked no one in particular.

Albert shook his head at Katherine. “The Delanceys are spreading a story that he took off at the first sight of cops.”

Les ran Albert. “Jack don’t run from no fight!” he cried, pushing him. 

Albert barely moved. “Take it down, short stuff,” he said. “I’m just reportin’ the news.”

“I’m sorry about Crutchie,” Kath said. “Me and Denton are trying to get into the Refuge to talk but I don’t know how long it’ll take.”

“That’s great, Kath!” David cried.

Katherine smiled. “It’s as much as I can help,” she said.

The paper was now at Race’s hand. He walked up to David and handed him the pape before walking towards Albert. “For jumpin’ Jack’s sake, can you stow the seriousity long enough to just  _ drink in the moment! _ ” He pulled Albert closer. “I’m famous!”

A mumble rose from the group. Sitting on the floor, Finch replied, “Yeah, what of it?”

Race stared at him. “Are you stupid or what?” he said. “When you’re famous, the world is your erster!”

Yet another indistinct mumbling. 

“Your what?” Henry was standing on another table, looking down at Race.

“Your erster,” Race said like it was obvious. “You know, your fancy clam with the pearl inside!”

“All right, all right, how much does being famous pay?” Henry said.

“You don’t need money when you’re famous, stupid!” Race said. “They gives you whatever you want!”

The conversation divulged into a list of the most ridiculous things each newsie would get once they’re famous. Shaking his head, David walked off to the side to look at the paper. Just like Mush read, the headline ‘ _ Newsies Stop the World! _ ’ were in large letter, just above the picture. Below the title were the bylines  _ Bryan Denton and Katherine Plumber _ .

David in turn focused on the picture. They looked every bit a general, boys arm-in-arm as they faced the world against all odds. They were tall; they were fearless; they were infallible.

And there was Jack, in the middle, his mirth visible even in the black-and-white photo.

Katherine stood beside him. “I’m sorry about yesterday.” 

“You got us on the front page, Kath,” David said. He passed her the paper. “I think we got a fighting chance.”

“You think we do?” Katherine asked. 

“We got on the front page, we can do anything.”

The door opened and even before David could look up, the silence that descended on the newsies told him whatever happened was not a good thing.

“Hey, what is you doing here?” Race shouted. When David looked at the entrance, he saw a tough-looking kid glaring at them. Clearly a newsie based on his attire but he wasn’t from Lower Manhattan. Beside him was a girl, around fifteen but just as tough-looking as the boy was.

“I gotta talk to Jack,” he said.

“Jack ain’t here,” Race said.

“Then give me someone who I can talk to,” the boy said. 

Race and Albert shared a glance, then Race was dragging David by the wrist outside. The two kids were already out when Race pushed the door open.

“What --”

“Since Jack ain’t here, I gotta talk to them,” Race said. “But you talked to Brooklyn before the strike, so’s you’re comin’ with me.” 

Before David could even say anything, Race dropped his hold on him and followed the kids on the alley.

With no choice, David followed them.

“Spit it out, Hatter,” Race said. “We ain’t got all day.”

“Calm down, Race, you’re gonna like our news,” Hatter said. To David: “You the Mouth, right?”

Race looked quizzically at David. “I’m David,” he said.

“Mouth, then. You’re the kid with Cowboy.” He nodded at David. “Brooklyn is in. You can count on us the next time you’re out.”

Race’s mouth dropped. “For real?”

The girl nodded. “For real. When’s the next fight?”

“I don’t --”

“Actually,” David said. His mind was moving faster than his mouth, an idea that he’s forming on the fly, “I was thinking we might hold a citywide newsie rally, tomorrow after working hours. I don’t know the details yet but I’ll let you know.”

The girl looked at David, appraising him. “Spot’s right. Mouth with a brain.”

“Come on, Violet.” Hatter doffed his hat at Race and David. “Pleasure workin’ with ya, fellas.” Just like that, Hatter and Violet left.

Race faced David. “A newsie rally?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” David said. “It’s one way to get every newsie's say on the strike. Since Brooklyn’s in, Harlem and Queens and Midtown will be in. We might get the whole New York, each newsie gets a say.”

“Jack was right about ‘cha,” Race said, shaking his head in awe. “We’re lucky we got ya in. We gotta tell everyone the good news.”

Laughing, Race ran in the deli with David hot on his heels. The door behind them barely closed when Race yelled, “Brooklyn’s in!”

Cheers erupted from the newsies. Specs ran to hug Race, and then Elmer, and Albert, and Henry and then all the newsies were in a large group. Katherine, laughing, launched herself at David.

“You gotta hear what Davey said!” Race exclaimed as the boys peeled off him. “Absolutely  _ mad _ , what he did, but he did it!”

“It’s not much, Racer, you know it --” David started but Race laughed at his face.

“He basically made up on a spot a newsie rally we were holding!” Race continued. “Said now that Brooklyn’s in, all them boroughs are in and there gotta be a voice for each newsie!”

Katherine faced Davey. “That was smart, Dave,” she said. “Now, every newsie can actively participate. It’s no longer just about Manhattan, it’s about all the New York newsies. It makes them less likely to defect if they get a say.”

“It’s nothing, really,” David said.

“Just admit you’re brilliant, Davey!” Albert called. Hoots and cheers came from all sides. 

Katherine nudged him. “Now we got a better chance, even with all the cops around.” She got a faraway look on her face. “You know, it makes me wonder why they sent all those bulls after you guys. I mean, while you were striking, you were just kids. A cop or three could’ve handled you, but they gave an entire army. Unless...”

She and David reached the conclusion at the same time. Their eyes met. “Unless, they’re scared we’re gonna win,” they said, breathlessly.

Katherine laughed, louder. David was laughing as well.

“We’re gonna win,” Katherine said.

“We’re going to win,” David said, voice half a shout. “We’re going to win!”

Race stood up on a table and suddenly David was reminded of when Jack himself stood on that same table, dividing up New York’s boroughs to each newsie. “We gotta tell the others that Brooklyn’s in! Spread the word, fellas!”

“Where are we holding the rally, Davey?” Finch asked. 

David stopped. “I’m not sure yet.”

Les spoke up. “How ‘bout at Medda’s?” he said. “It’s big enough for us.”

David considered this. “You’re right.” He faced the newsies. “I’m gonna go to Medda’s and we’ll meet at the lodging in an hour or two. While I talk to Miss Medda, you can go to your boroughs to spread the news about Brooklyn and the rally.”

“Aye, aye, cap’n!” Race yelled, a grin on his face. 

“Can I come?” Les asked.

“Sure, you can,” David said.

Katherine came closer to David. “You mind if I did too?” she said, hesitantly. This wasn’t Reporter Katherine speaking with her confident words and loud voice; this was just Katherine, the newsies’ new friend.

David nodded, smiling to placate her. “Of course you can.” To everyone: “We’ll be back as soon as we can.”


	10. a fight we have to win

_ Dear Jack, _

_ How are you? Sorry I wasn’t much help yesterday, but I saw the pape and we was front page story, just like Katherine’s said! I knew we could do it! _

_ I’m okay, though I ain’t been walkin so good. Synder soaked me real good with my crutch down there and it messed my leg up bad. _

_ Oh, yeah. This is Crutchie, by the way. _

_ These guards here is as rude as you says they are. They keep on telling me I better jump or I’m screwed. But at least the food here’s good, but that’s cause they ain’t brung us no food yet. Ha, ha, I’s just jokin, but it’s true there ain’t no food yet. _

_ It’s hot here, and crowded. I miss the penthouse. It’s cool there even in July, ain’t it? _

_ Once my leg’s healed up, you and I’s gonna get outta here. I got an escape plan. I’m gonna tie the bed sheets, throw them out the window, and we’re off to Santa Fe just like you says. Wait till my leg heals then we’ll go there, ridin palominos. _

_ But before that we gotta beat Pulitzer, huh? We’ll win the strike, just you wait. Davey'll think up something, and Katherine and Denton will write somethin amazing and you and the fellas will be standing your ground. _

_ I miss the fellas. You said that a family looks out for each other, and we will. Tell them guys to protect each other, okay? I’ll be back there with ya in no time. _

~~_ Your friend _ ~~

~~_ Your best friend _ ~~

_ Your brother, Crutchie. _

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Swirls of pinks and teals and greens floated in front of Jack’s eyes.

There was nothing he wanted to do except wave his brush over this canvas, finish this backdrop. At least it kept his mind away from the mess of Newsie Square. From the shouts and screams and Crutchie being dragged away.

His letter hung heavy in Jack’s pocket.

He was so engrossed in his painting he barely noticed Medda walk up to him. Her voice shook him out of his intense focus on his work.

“Here’s everything I owe you for the first backdrop,” Medda said. When Jack turned to look at her, she had an envelope on her hand. She was in her pre-show attire: a green silk robe was wrapped around her and her hair was up in a towel. “Plus this one, and a little extra something on account of I’m gonna miss you so.”

Jack shook his head. “Miss Medda, I --”

“Jack.” Her voice left no room for argument. Jack reluctantly accepted the money.

“You’re a gem,” he told her.

“Just tell me you’re going somewhere and not running away,” Medda said.

Jack frowned. “Does it matter?”

“When you go somewhere and it turns out not to be the right place, you can always go somewhere else,” Medda said. Jack averted his eyes; it felt as though Medda was looking straight into his soul. “But when you’re running away, nowhere’s ever the right place.”

A loud rattling from the balcony made Jack look up. From the shadows bursted Davey, Katherine, and Les. It was dim around there, but Katherine’s green skirt was obvious and Jack would know Davey anywhere.

“How about letting a pal know you’re alive?” Davey yelled, his accent thicker. More rattling rang, which told Jack they were descending towards the stage. 

Medda didn’t look shocked at the sight of them. She looked at Jack, a slight smile on her face.“How about I leave you with your friend”

“Miss Medda --” Jack started but Davey was already running towards him. A smile was bright on his face and he clutched a paper between his hands.

“Where did you go? We couldn’t find ya,” Davey said. Jack stopped at the sight of the bruise on Davey’s cheek. It was huge and purpling, but Davey was grinning like they weren’t beat to the ground yesterday.

“Did you ever think I didn’t wanna be found?” Jack said, turning around to continue to paint.

“There he is, just like I said!” Les said, cocky in the way only nine-year-olds can be. Jack turned around to look at him and was stupefied to see his arm in a sling. Beside him, Katherine held his shoulder.

“Les, what happened to you?” He had Les go home before Snyder arrived; how had he broken his arm?

It was another kid hurt by Jack’s strike. 

“This is nothing!” Les said. “I haven’t broken anything, Ma just said I should not move it much so it won’t hurt!”

“You look like hell,” Katherine told him gently.

Jack sent her a glare. “Word is you and Denton wrote a great story.”

Katherine opened her mouth but Davey talked first. “That’s Santa Fe?” He nodded at the backdrop Jack was painted. Les gasped and ran closer to inspect it.

Katherine rolled her eyes. “I gotta tell you, Jack. This ‘go west, young man’ routine is getting tired.” She groaned. “Even Horace Greeley moved back to New York.”

“Yes, he did,” Les said sagely. “And then he died.”

“Les,” Davey warned. He walked closer to Jack, a grin on his face again as he tried to get to the point. “Hey, did you see the papes? We’re front page, above the fold! Oh yes.” He leaned closer to Jack, bringing up the paper to his face. “Above. The fold.”

Davey’s glee was infectious but Jack couldn’t find it in himself to be happy. “Good for you.”

Davey’s face crumpled at Jack’s lackluster response, but he barreled on. “Everyone wants to meet the famous Jack Kelly. Even Spot Conlon sent over a kid just to say next event, you can count on Brooklyn! How ‘bout that?”

“We got stomped into the ground,” Jack reminded him.

Undeterred , Davey hit his shoulder with the paper. “They got us this time, I’ll grant you that, but we took round one. But with press like this. Our fight is far from over.”

“Every newsie who could walk was out this mornin’, sellin’ papes like the strike never happened,” Jack sneered.

Davey’s temper was rising now, Jack could feel it. Jack reveled in it. “And I was right there with ‘em. If I don’t sell papes, my folks don’t eat, but --”

“Save your breath, I get it, it’s hopeless.”

Davey stammered, trying to gather his words. “But then I saw this look on Weasel’s face. He was actually nervous! And I realized, this isn’t over. We got ‘em worried, really worried, and I walked away. Lots of other kids did too, but that is what you call a beginning!”

Les walked up to the two of them. “ What’s the hold up? I need to let my girl know we got a date.”

Katherine, Davey, and Jack turned to look at Les.

Finally, Davey stuttered out, “Your girl?”

Les pushed him. “You heard me. I’ve been swattin’ away skirts all mornin’. Fame is one intoxicating potion. And this here girl, Sally… she’s a plum.”

Jack looked up to ask Davey what Les meant, but he saw him exchanging questioning looks with Katherine. Since when have they been close? Jack shook his head, pushing that thought away.

“What are you doing here?” Jack asked Katherine. “Aren’t reporters supposed to be uh, non-partisan?”

“Ask a reporter,” Katherine said. “Pulitzer’s had me blacklisted from every news desk in town.”

“Can’t we table the palaver and get back to business?” Les said, looking at the three of them. “Will Medda let us have the theater?”

“It’s what I’ve been trying to tell ya,” Davey said to Jack. “We want to hold a rally, a citywide meeting where every newsie gets a say and a vote. And we do it after workin’ hours, so no one loses a day’s pay.” He bit his lip, awaiting Jack’s reaction eagerly. “Smart?”

“Yeah, smart enough to get you committed to a padded room.” Jack turned around to face his painting again.

“The guy who paints places he’s never seen is calling us crazy?” Katherine asked, incredulous.

Jack whipped around to stare at her. “You wanna see a place I seen, huh? How about this.” He turned the backdrop around and behind the picturesque Santa Fe was a cartoon. A foot with the word  _ Pulitzer  _ on it was stomping on the kids. Romeo on the ground, the punches these kids received.

Jack could see it all, and he painted in behind the backdrop to get it out of his head. It didn’t work. It just exacerbated the vision.

Jack’s voice was venom now, spitting all this anger. “Newsies Square. Thanks to my -- my big mouth, filled to overflowing with failure. Kids hurt, others arrested.” 

“Lighten up! No one died.” Davey said.

Jack’s mouth dropped open. “Oh is that what you’re aiming for?” he yelled at him. Davey opened his mouth to defend himself but Jack continued, merciless. “Go on, call me a coward, call me a quitter. Ain’t no way I am putting them kids back in danger.”

“We’re doing something that’s never been done before!” Davey shouted back. Jack stopped. “How can that not be dangerous?”

Jack dug the letter from his pocket and shook it at Davey’s direction. “Specs brought me a note from Crutchie. At the refuge. I tried to see him. They busted him up so bad, he couldn’t even come to the window.” 

Katherine took hold of Les’s hand. Jack pocketed the letter again.

“Now what if we don’t make it, huh?” Jack said to Davey. He was pleading. He was exhausted. “Are you willin’ to shoulder that for what, half a penny a pape?”

Davey stepped closer to him, drawing himself up to his full height.”It’s not about the pennies!” he said. “Jack, you said it yourself. My family wouldn’t be in the mess we’re in if my father had had a union.” Jack scoffed and tried to step away but Davey grabbed hold of his arm. “This is a fight we have to win!”

Davey was close, too close, but Jack stepped even closer. They were nose to nose, and Jack could see every freckle on his face. “If I wanted a sermon, I’d show up for church,” he said derisively. 

“Tell me how quitting does Crutchie any good,” Davey said, exasperated.

Jack took a breath to answer but Davey didn’t give him time. “Exactly,” he said. “Now, if you would shut up and listen to us, you’d know we’d win. We would go up to Pulitzer and tell him he better let Crutchie go or we’d pound him to the ground.”

“Dave, what the hell!” Jack yelled. He grabbed the paper from Davey’s hands and hit him with it. “Did you hit your head or something? Do you remember what happened on the Newsie Square? We were beat to the ground, they won!”

“Won the battle,” Davey said.

“Oh, come on!” Unable to stare at Davey any longer, he walked off to the side. Davey followed him.

“Jackie, think about it for one second!” Davey said. “Why would Pulitzer send us an entire army -- there were goons and cops and the Bulls, for heaven’s sake! Why would they be so scared of kids unless...” He trailed off, letting Jack draw his own conclusion. After a beat of silence, Davey continued. “We are winning, Jackie, and they’re scared we would continue and --”

“You know, maybe you’re right,” Jack interrupted.

Davey’s sigh of relief was palpable. “Thank you, God!”

If Pulitzer wasn’t afraid, he wouldn’t have sent so many goons after them. Which means….”We’re winning, Davey.”

Davey’s grin was blinding. “Yes, we are!” To Jack’s surprise, Davey lunged forward to engulf him in a hug. It was over too quickly and he was stepping away now.

Something small barrelled against Jack from behind, arms wrapping around his waist. “Jack’s back!” Les said. Laughing, Jack twisted around to hug Les. “All we gotta do is ask Miss Medda!”

“Miss Medda’ll agree, no question asked,” Jack told Les. When he looked up to look at Davey, he found him standing next to Kath. There was a somber mood about them and in the shadows, it looked like their hands were clasped together. They moved away before Jack could see it any clearer.

Kath stepped closer to Jack. “I know it’s all scary but we’re doing something no one even tried before. We’re all terrified.”

Davey followed suit. A hand rested on Kath’s shoulder while another landed on Jack’s. “You in on the rally?”

Jack spat on his hand and held it out in a handshake. He grinned when Davey’s nose wrinkled at the sight of it.

Les, however, did what he did the first time they met; he spat happily and shook hands with Jack. Kath had no hesitation in following suit and soon, with a grimace, Davey followed. He immediately wiped his hand on his pants.

“Now, come on, we gotta ask Miss Medda,” Davey said. “Then we’ll tell the other newsies, they’ll be stoked you’re back!”

“Can I come to the lodging?” Les asked, bouncing on his heel.

“No, I’m heading you home before we go back to the lodging,” Davey said.

“But your house is on the opposite direction of Kloppmann’s,” Jack pointed out. “You’re gonna walk back around?”

“Let me come,  _ please. _ ” Les drew the last word out but Davey shook his head.

“Mama was already angry when I got home with a black eye, we’re lucky we’re even allowed out.” Davey caught Jack’s questioning glance and waved his hand about, as if to say  _ I’ll tell you all later _ .

Katherine piped up. “I could walk Les home,” she said. Katherine was a great writer but she was not all that good of a liar. Her voice had a hopeful note to it, betraying whatever her intention may be.

“Yeah, sure, maybe you’ll catch Sarah too on the way home,” Davey said. Jack didn’t know what to make of Katherine’s sudden bashfulness at this but Davey barrelled on. “Les, tell Ma I’ll be home around suppertime.”

Les nodded and Katherine, voice higher, said, “Well, we’ll be going now. Good bye and...good luck.”

The two of them dashed out of the theater. Davey turned to Jack. “Where’s Miss Medda?”

They found Medda preparing for her performance later that night. Her hair was already up and she was putting her makeup on. 

“Well, of course you kids can have the theater for tomorrow!” she said when Davey made their case. “I’ll just cancel the shows tomorrow, no problem.”

“Oh, we don’t want to impose --” Davey said but Medda shook her head.

“Nonsense!” she said. “Consider this as my help for your cause.”

“You’re a gem, Miss Medda,” Jack said.

Medda beamed at him. “Now, go on. I’m sure your boys missed you. The theater will be waiting for you tomorrow evening.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is probably one of my favorite chapter to write. the chapters after this, uhhh, i had Troubles. but hopefully i can finally finish this, cause i am This Close
> 
> also, davey and kath's relationship was based on the fact that i stared at ben fankhauser every single time he was on stage and noticed that (1) in kony, he and katherine were chatting and (2) look at them in watch what happens reprise and they are holding hands :'-) i love best friends


	11. high times, hard times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sarah punches a Delancey, no matter what universe she's in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, i think i owe an explanation for the delay of the chapter. i have finished this fic a while ago _except_ this chapter and the next. i didn't want to release a chapter i'm not that satisfied with and while this chapter + the next could be improved imo, i am Tired from online classes.
> 
> on that note though, since i have finished the fic, i'll be uploading quite frequently! the next chapter will be up in like a few hours and i'll be uploading the chapter once a day! yey!
> 
> tread cautiously, as it is barely edited sjkdhskjthank you

When the factory finally closed for the day, Sarah audibly sighed in relief. A whole day stitching and working the machine did stuff to her legs and by the time they were finally let out by Mr. Cooper, her legs were aching and tired.

Beside her, Agnes too had sighed, leaning heavily on her chair as she stood up. “Oh, my foot has gone asleep!” she exclaimed. She shook her foot vigorously, trying to shake life into them.

Sarah stretched her arms above her head. “You tell me.”

Agnes slid down her seat again, still shaking her foot. “Hey, you wait for me up front,” she said. “My foot needs a minute to function.”

“Oh, I can wait here,” Sarah said.

Agnes shook her head, causing the loose brown strands framing her face to shake. “And risk the wrath of Mr. Cooper? It’ll only be a minute.”

Sarah opened her mouth to argue but thought more about it. Mr. Cooper wanted everyone out of the factory as soon as possible but he did make some exceptions to cases like Agnes. Sarah staying in would definitely not end well.

“All right. I’ll see you out.” 

Agnes waved her forwards, encouraging her to join the stream of women pouring out of the factory. A companionable chatter followed the women as they joined the sea of working men, women, and children as they walked home from their jobs. 

Sarah caught a familiar sight loitering near the steps, hands deep on his pocket.

“Joseph!” Sarah and Agnes’s childhood friend -- and Agnes’s beau -- looked up at Sarah’s shout. Light brown hair longer than Sarah remembered it fell into his eyes.

He smiled at her. “Hey, Sarah.” Joseph Drucker worked at one of the docks near Brooklyn and while it wasn’t unusual seeing him here, Sarah immediately took notice of his fidgeting. “Is Agnes here?”

“She’s coming out in a while.” Joseph nodded, a little too quickly than usual. Joseph was a quiet, composed guy, an anchor to Agnes’s unbounded energy. Right now, he looked so far from that composed friend Sarah knew. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Sarah raised an eyebrow, and Joseph sighed. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out something, opening his hand. He didn’t make a move to extend his arms to her, so Sarah stepped closer to see. A glimmer caught a stray sunlight, causing her to gasp.

It was a ring. It had no flashy ornament, a plain gold plated ring that probably took Joseph a few months to work for. Sarah grinned. 

“Oh, Agnes would love this!” she exclaimed.

The uneasiness on Joseph’s shoulder bled out. “You think?”

“I know,” Sarah said. “She’d say yes.”

Joseph smiled, but his eyes slipped to someone behind Sarah and the tension came back full force. 

“Joseph, darling, what are you doing here?” Agnes went straight to Joseph, looping her arm around his. Joseph looked down at Agnes, the most love stricken expression on his face. 

Sarah faced Agnes. “How about you go with Joseph on the way home? I’m going to wait for David, make sure he doesn’t get another black eye.”

Agnes nodded, leaning forward to kiss Sarah on the cheek. “Tell him I wish them newsboys luck on their strike.”

Sarah smiled and reached over to pat Joseph on the shoulder. She tried to give him an encouraging smile. “It was nice talking to you again, Joseph,” she said.

_ Good luck _ , Sarah thought as the couple walked arm-in-arm towards their tenement. David and Les were probably still at the Newsie Square. Sarah decided she could go see them; she walked towards the Square.

As she turned the corner, a man slammed against her. Sarah bristled but practice and self-preservation taught her to keep her head down.

“’Cuse me, Sweetface,” the man said. Sarah ignored him. Not even a few steps ahead, another man stepped in front of her, causing her to step back. Her back slammed against the man she bumped into a while ago.

“Where’s your little brother, Tootsie?” Shivers ran down Sarah’s spine.  _ Keep your head down, try to get by _ , her father’s voice echoed in her head.  _ Make a fist, thumbs out _ . 

Sarah tried to sidestep but the men were closing in on her. They were backing her into an alley. “Hey, where’s little Davey?”

Hands closed on her waist, locking her in place. “What do you want with David?” she said.  _ Make a fist, thumbs out. Throw your weight into the punch. _

“Thought we’d get a message across to one of the strike’s leaders,” the man said, leering. These two boys were only a little older than she was, and she took notice of the small space in between them, giving her an opening to the street out. The hands on her waist loosened and Sarah took the chance.

“Here’s a message, you stupid ape.” She threw her entire weight onto her punch. Pain shocked up Sarah’s arm and the boy staggered back in shock. Sarah seized the moment’s chaos and pushed them out of the way, stumbling out of the alley.

She wouldn’ve gotten away faster but she slammed against a lady passing by. “Sorry!” she cried.

“Sarah?” the lady said at the same time. Sarah had a moment to notice it was Katherine, the pretty reporter, but the ruckus coming from the alley she left shook her into the moment.

“Come on!” Without thinking, Sarah grabbed Katherine’s wrist and ran out into the streets. Katherine yelped but she kept up her pace and ran after Sarah. A familiar voice shouting caused Sarah to look back.

“Is that Les?” she yelled at Katherine. She could make out her brother running behind Katherine.

“We were just coming to find you!” Katherine replied. 

Sarah didn’t think; she kept her hold on Katherine as she ran away. They dodged a few pedestrians and yelled apologies around every corner but she didn’t dare stop until they were near their tenement building.

Sarah could hear Katherine’s and Les’s labored breathing. When she looked back, Katherine had a hand on her chest, breathing deeply. 

“What did Oscar and Morris want with you?” Sarah was taken aback with the anger on her brother’s tone.

“I didn’t know them,” Sarah said in between pants. “They just asked me where David was. Where  _ is  _ David?”

“Davey’s out with Jack,” Katherine, having managed to get her breath, replied. “They went back to the boys’ lodging house to talk things over. I expect things will be better for the newsies.”

Sarah nodded, her panic slowly subsiding. As she managed to get her breath in order, the weight of the situation dawned on her. She  _ dragged  _ Katherine Plumber, the reporter who wrote the article about her brother’s strike, after meeting her once.

Sarah stammered, “Miss Katherine, I’m sorry for dragging you in this mess and I must’ve pulled you out of your work and --” 

A hand landed on Sarah’s arm. Katherine was smiling. “Just Katherine, please. And I was going to find you and walk Les home since Davey was unavailable.”

“He said he’ll be back by dinner,” Les added.

On instinct, Sarah reached out to hold Les. She looked up at Katherine. “Well, thank you for walking Les home, Katherine.”

“It’s no problem, Sarah.” Katherine’s eyes were a shade of brown so lovely Sarah cannot seem to keep her gaze off her.

“You can stay for dinner, Katherine!” Les said. Sarah and Katherine both looked at him. “Mama’s a great cook!”

“That she is,” Sarah agreed. Katherine’s forehead crinkled, as if weighing down the consequences of a dinner. Sarah decided to push her luck. “I would love it if you can stop by. As an apology for dragging you all this way.” A smile graced Sarah’s face.

“You did not drag me,” Katherine reminded her. “And...I’d love that. Dinner, I mean.”

Sarah smiled. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Good day, Mama,” Sarah greeted her mother as soon as she, Katherine, and Les stepped on the premises. Her mother took her shawl, shooting her a conspicuous look, head cocked at Katherine’s direction. 

Sarah answered her unasked question. “This is Miss Katherine Plumber. She wrote the article about the newsboys strike and walked Les home.”

Katherine surged forward with the ease of a reporter meeting her interviewee. She extended her hand to Mama, saying, “It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Jacobs. Davey was with Jack, and they were talking with the other boys. He asked me to walk Les home and tell you he’ll be home by supper.”

Mama turned to Sarah with a disbelieving smile before she shook her hand. “Call me Esther. I read your article. It was very lovely, dear.”

“Thank you. And If I call you Esther, then please just call me Katherine,” Katherine said. “And writing about the strike was an honor. Those boys didn’t deserve an unfair hike on the papers and they were awfully nice, your children included.”

Mama laughed. “David, I can believe, but Les was whirlwind.”

“Ma!” Les, who had gone straight to Papa on the sofa, exclaimed. 

Sarah turned to her mother before the conversation derailed. “You wouldn’t mind if Katherine stayed for dinner, would you?”

“Of course not,” Mama said. “Any friend of my children is welcome here. Jack already came here; what’s another more?”

“Jack came here?” Katherine asked.

Sarah nodded. “The night before the strike.”

Katherine looked down, deep in thought. She looked beautiful, with her furrowed brows and the little frown on her face. 

“The dinner will be cooked in a short while, why don’t you go and get the laundry from our rooftop?” Mama told Sarah. “I’ll be adding to the dish for Katherine.”

“Is there any way I could help?” Katherine asked.

“Oh, it’s okay --”

“Esther,” Katherine interjected, “I would love to help.”

Mama chewed on her lower lip. “Well, Sarah would probably need help to get the laundry, if you insist.”

Katherine smiled. “Well, I do.”

Sarah watched the interaction with interest and her breath was nearly knocked out of her lungs when Katherine turned to her. “Shall we?” 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The rooftop was three storeys up the Jacobs’ house, shared communally by every family in the building. When Sarah pushed open the metal door separating the rooftop, bedsheets and dresses and clothing cover every spare space on the laundry line.

Sarah turned to Katherine. “You know you didn’t have to do this, right?” Sarah said.

Katherine shot her a look. “And I did say I would love to help.”

Sarah did not know Katherine very well, but she already knew that she’d do whatever she sets her eyes on, even if it’s as simple as picking laundry. Shaking her head, Sarah led her down to where their clothes hung. 

Katherine looked at the clothes. “Is this all?” she asked.

“It’s from here up to that blue shirt there.” She pointed. “See?”

Katherine nodded and she went to work, gathering the clothes in between. Silence stretched between them. It was a comfortable one but Sarah still longed to break it.

“It was a passionate article you wrote, Katherine,” Sarah said.

Katherine looked at her, surprised. “You read it?”

“Of course I did,” Sarah said. “I loved it, it was obvious you cared about the newsies.”

It was evident; Katherine and her co-writer portrayed the newsies as sympathetic, with a worthy cause and brave strike leaders.

It still put Sarah on a loop, thinking of her brother as one of the strike leaders. But then again, it wasn’t that big of a leap. When they were back in school together, David had an affinity for running his mouth. More than once, Sarah had to help him hide bruises that came from aforementioned affinity.

Katherine smiled. “I do. They are a really nice bunch and it’s unfair they have to go through all of that.”

Sarah nodded. “It’s unfair we all have to go through this, but we have to. I imagine being a reporter isn’t easy when you’re a woman.”

“No, it isn’t.” Katherine’s voice turned bitter. “Being a female reporter isn’t much better than being a female...anything, really. I can’t imagine it’s easier for you. You work at the garment factory, right?”

“Yeah.” Sarah had pulled off the last of the laundry from the line. She turned to face Kath. “I am grateful, Kathy, for all the help you’re doing for my brothers. And all those boys. I only met Jack once but I know he and the newsies appreciated your help.”

“It’s my job, Sarah.” When Katherine smiled, it was all things good all at once. Doing this -- writing, helping the boys -- it must’ve been draining. Katherine had one of the biggest hearts Sarah had ever seen.

Silence stretched between them once again, but Sarah did not break it. It was only once they were walking back to the tenement did Sarah talk.

“I figured walking Les home wasn’t part of your job,” Sarah noted, using her leg to close the gate as she held the dried clothes closer to her chest. Katherine balanced the clothes she was holding on one arm to lock the gate. “Nor was comforting David yesterday. I would like to thank you for that.”

“Oh, you thanked me enough,” Katherine said. The flight down was slower, as they couldn’t see the staircase. “I don’t know what the boys think of me, but I care about them very much. I don’t know how close I can get with them without sacrificing my integrity as a reporter, which is something that’s already under very heavy scrutiny as a woman, but I’ve developed a certain...fondness for them. I root for them and I wish I could help them as much as I could.”

That much was obvious. “I know,” Sarah said. “If there was anything that I could do to help David and Jack and strike, I would have. I haven’t met any of the other boys yet, but if you, Les, and David speak of them with such high regard, I bet I would’ve liked them as well.”

The thought seemed to amuse Katherine, as she grinned widely. “You would’ve.”

They turned to their last flight of stairs when a familiar high pitched scream almost caused Sarah to drop her laundry. Quickly, Katherine gathered the clothes Sarah held as Agnes barreled down towards her, grin blinding.

“Sarah, Joseph proposed! He proposed!” She held out her hand, where the ring she saw prior rested on her fingers. Sarah swept her in a hug, laughing.

“Congratulations, Agnes, that’s wonderful!” she cried.

Agnes pulled back, looking at Sarah with a gleam in her eyes. “You knew, didn’t you?” she accused her playfully. “That’s why you left us alone. Oh, Sarah, I can’t thank you enough!”

“It was no problem.” Remembering Katherine, Sarah turned around to retrieve the clothes Katherine held for her despite her insistence. “Oh, Agnes, this is Katherine Plumber, reporter at  _ The Sun _ . Kath, this is my dearest friend, Agnes Zimmerman.”

Agnes, who read news and read widely, recognized the name immediately. “Katherine Plumber, the one who wrote about the strike?” She held out a hand and Sarah gathered just enough of Katherine’s clothes for her to be able to get a hand out. “It was a pleasure to meet you. Sarah and David and Les here are practically family, and you’re doing us a favor for cover for it.”

“It was no problem, Agnes. It was nice meeting you, too. And congratulations on your engagement.”

Agnes laughed. “I would say I’m sorry that was your first impression but I’m not. I’m getting  _ married _ !”

Katherine smiled. “Oh, don’t be! I wish you and your fiance the best.”

Agnes nodded, smiling softly when she took a double take on Katherine. “You kind of look familiar. Have we met before?”

“Oh, I don’t think so --”

Agnes snapped her fingers. “I got it! Do you work near the garment factory? I could’ve sworn I saw you walk past us on the sidewalk before work.”

Sarah closed her eyes briefly, cursing Agnes’s impeccable memory. 

To her surprise, Katherine nodded. “Yes, I didn’t think you’d remember. I saw you two there, too.”

“Of course I’d remember. Well, it was Sarah you’re --”

Sarah shot her a look and thankfully, Agnes stopped. “Anyways. Congratulations on your engagement, Agnes. I wish you well on your marriage.”

Agnes bounced back. “I’m so excited!” She nodded at Katherine. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Katherine.”

“You too.”

Agnes leaned over and kissed Sarah on the cheek, whispering, “I saw you stare at her, you know.” Before Sarah could answer, she smiled and bounded off to their house. With one look at Katherine, they both walked towards the Jacobs.

Sarah decided to address the elephant in the room. “So you do remember the sidewalk meeting.”

Katherine nodded. “Yes, I did. I’m sorry I didn’t bring it up. I didn’t think you’d remember that, and I would’ve been so awkward if I remembered meeting you without your knowledge.”

“Well, I didn’t bring it up because I thought  _ you  _ didn’t remember that. “

Katherine shook her head, disbelieving. “Why won’t I remember it? It’s not often I see beautiful women on the street.” For one brief moment, Sarah had the pleasure of seeing Katherine Plumber speechless. “Well. You know what I mean,” she added.

A smile spread slowly on Sarah’s face “Thank you, Kath. I also think you’re really beautiful. And smart and loyal and loving. I can never stop thanking you for helping my brothers.”

Katherine avoided her eyes, but her cheeks flared red. “It’s nothing.”

“If I could help in any other way, I would love to. Just tell me.”

After a moment, Katherine looked up at her. “You’d be the first I’d go to if they need help.”

In the infinite second between Katherine’s smile and hers, Sarah figured it out. The curve of Katherine’s lips, the glitter in her eyes. Her drive, her will, her passion.

Sarah had it all figured out.

This is going to be an interesting ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *takes a deep breath* wOMEN --
> 
> yeah, that's it. stay tuned for the next chapter within this day!!!!


	12. we're circling victory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> today, i offer you two (2) barely edited chapters. tomorrow? who knows?

When they were nearing what Jack pointed out to be Kloppmann’s Lodging, David turned to Jack. “I gotta warn you, some of the guys were pretty banged up.” He shrugged at the look Jack shot him. “ Just so you know.” 

David wouldn’t claim to know the full extent as to why the guys ruffle their feathers when bruises were pointed out, but he reckoned it’s the same reason he used to hide marks from kerfuffles in school. Bruised pride hurted a lot more when pride is all you have.

Jack nodded, swallowing. He has his own bruise too, a dark purple one on his cheekbone. David didn’t have to guess what was running on his mind.

“It’s not your fault, Jack,” he said.

“Ain’t it?” Jack turned to look at David. His eyes were swirling with emotions and when he spoke, he all but spat the words at David, angry at himself. David wanted to reach out to him. “I ran, Davey. What kind of leader does that?” He looked away, mouth twisted in disgust.

“A scared one and as I told you, we were all scared. Terrified, even. Hey, listen to me.” David stopped, prompting Jack to turn his gaze back on him. Electricity was in the air. David’s heart is thundering at his chest. “The guys, they didn’t think you ran. They were worried about you and I promise you, they would be happy to see you back.”

“Ya think?” Jack from the strike was gone. The morning before, he was all courage, all righteous fury. Tonight, that courage was deflated, leaving him hesitant to even look at the lodging house. 

“I know,” David promised. “Come on, they’ll be waiting.”

David was right; Race, who was sitting on the sidewalk in front of Kloppmann’s, almost dropped his cigar when David and Jack approached. Before any of them could react, a grin broke out of Race’s face and he tipped his head up to the window, yelling, “I told all of yous Jack will be back!”

There was a clatter from upstairs and David could hear a handful of “Jack!” yelled from the across the room. Romeo was the first to peer out of the window, followed by Specs and Mush. 

“There he is!” Mush shouted gleefully. “You look like shit, Kelly!”

“No better than you,” Jack called, a little hesitant than he usually did but the laughter that rained down on them made the smile on his face spread wider.

Race turned his gaze to David. “What did Miss Medda say?”

David couldn’t keep the grin off his face. “She said yes.”

Race let out a whoop, yelling, “Miss Medda said yes!”, and the thunderous sound of cheering and laughter was deafening that an old man from the lodging came out and said, “What’re you harping on about there, Race?”

“We’re gonna win the strike, Kloppmann!” Race said, grinning. 

Kloppmann shook his head but a smile was on his face. “Win it a little quieter.” He spotted David and he nodded at him. “You musta been Davey.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kloppmann snorted and faced Jack. “ _ Sir _ , your boy’s polite.” David felt more than seen Jack open his mouth to retort but Kloppmann continued, “You staying for the night?”

“No, sir. We just need to talk about the strike,” David said.

“Well, come on in and don’t yell it out in the street for everyone to hear. And Jack.” Kloppmann turned to Jack, who faced him solemnly. “There’s some leftover cream for your bruise, if the boys didn’t use it all up yesterday. Best you look after that shiner.”

Jack nodded and vaguely, David remembered Katherine and Denton’s article, and the fact that Jack had been a newsie for half his life. Kloppmann must’ve been part of Jack’s life for as long as he’s been a newsie.

There was a great thundering of footsteps and a sea of boys bursted from the doors. David could just make out Albert’s hair in the crowd before they all descended on Jack and subsequently, on David. 

“Where’ve you been, Jack!” Elmer’s voice was clear but David couldn’t see him here. Jack chuckled.

“You missed me, fellas?” Jack said. David could make out the tiniest bit of relief above the bravado. “We gotta come in and talk about the strike, Davey here got a plan!”

“Yeah, he did!” Race said. “You gotta hear what he said to Hatter and Violet. First time I saw his big flap shut up.”

Somehow, they managed to get up to the second floor without much fare. David slipped behind when they stepped in the threshold, content with simply watching Jack smile as hands clapped him in the back or ruffle his hair the way he used to do to younger kids. When the boys reached the top of the staircase, Jack looked over his shoulder and met David’s eyes. He cocked his head, an invitation.

David grinned and followed him up.

The lodging room was full to the brimming with double deck beds, with barely a feet between the beds. David looked at the boys and the bed; there weren’t enough beds for everyone.

Jack settled on the floor and the boys sat down on the beds nearest to him. David sat next to Romeo, whose bruise has taken to a pretty dark shade.

“So what’s the plan, Jack?” Finch asked as soon as they settled down.

Jack snorted “It ain’t me who got the idea, it’s Davey.” He nodded at David. “Go on, tell them.”

He did. Their eyes got larger and brighter as David continued, and by the time he finished outlining their plan, he could see the stars in their eyes, the success they envisioned.

Jack was smirking. “Pretty good plan, ain’t it?” he said. “Now, can someone tell me what did Davey do to get Brooklyn in!”

Race cackled. “He’s mad! He started spewin’ this plan for a rally on the spot, Jack!” 

“It’s really nothing --” David started.

The newsies cried as one. “Aw, quit your harpin’!” Albert said. “We’ll win, thanks to ya!”

David opened his mouth to deny it, shaking his head, but Jack’s expression caused him to pause. His eyes were so soft, so warm a chasm opened in David’s stomach. The lyrics to a song that was playing in the background became incredibly clear.

Oh.  _ Oh. _

An elbow jabbed on his side. He swiveled around to see Romeo, frowning at him. “You okay there, Davey?”

David pushed the thought behind. He could analyze it later, far from the too-perceptive eyes of the newsies. His gaze fell on Romeo’s bruise. “Has anyone looked into your bruises?” he asked.

Romeo rolled his eyes.“Yes,  _ ma _ ,” he said. “It ain’t our first time gettin’ bruises.”

David ignored the implications of that statement. “Yeah, maybe, but you probably didn’t get that many from  _ cops _ . You still got that cream?”

From his bed, Henry answered, “Yeah, if Elmer didn’t finish it all up on his.” 

A hat flew in the air, landing on Henry’s head. “Hey, I didn’t!” Elmer said.

Henry answered by throwing the hat back. 

David stepped in before it can escalate any further. “Can someone get it? Some of your bruises don’t look good and I don’t know if anyone looked after you, Jack --” 

“It ain’t bad --” Jack interrupted.

David cut him off with a stare. “It’s purple. Did anyone even look after it?” Jack fell silent. “Exactly. I’ll help you out and anyone who doesn’t look too good.” He looked at everyone, gauging out their bruises. “Race, Romeo, I think someone needs to look after that.” 

“I told ya!” Albert exclaimed.

“Shut up,” Race grumbled. He stood up. “All right, I’ll go get it.”

When Race left, Jack stood up. Romeo left his seat, going to sit next to Finch. Jack slipped down to where Romeo sat. “You know you don’t gotta --” he started.

“Yeah, I know I don’t have to,” David said. “But Ma would talk my ear off if I don’t help you so much I won’t be able to hear until we win this strike.”

Jack laughed. “Then you’d be able to hear within this week then.”

Whatever Davey had in mind left him the moment his eyes met Jack’s. His eyebrows were cocked in playful arrogance but his eyes were completely honest. David’s heart stuttered erratically on his chest.

Race’s entrance shook David out of the trance. He caught the tub Race threw at his way and gestured for Romeo. “You first.” 

Romeo grumbled, but he followed suit. David led him closer to the window, hoping to catch the last of the sun’s rays as he tilted Romeo’s chin to apply the ointment. His bruise covered half of his left cheek but it wasn’t something a little salve won’t solve.

When he was done, Race came forward. His black eye wasn’t as big as Romeo’s, but he did have comparably more bruises than him. One particular bruise that wasn’t looked at was one on his arm. David applied cream on that as well.

Race nodded as David finished. “Where’d you learn to do this?” he asked, rolling down his sleeve.

“Ma patched me up when I was younger,” David replied, giving him a quick look. “Well, that’ll be it. Can you call Jack?”

Race nodded and stood up. When David looked back at the room, the newsies had fallen back to idle chatting, their voices overlapping and increasing in volume.

Jack sat down in front of David. Almost immediately, air left David’s lungs. He cleared his throat. “You got any more bruises?” he asked, his voice drier.

Jack shook his head. “No. Just my face.”

“Come closer, the sun’s almost setting.”

David didn’t know who exactly shuffled closer, and he could feel Jack sitting perfectly still as David cupped his chin to tilt his face up.

The bruise was clean, yes, but it was evident that aside from washing it, no further steps were taken. With gentle hands so as to not aggravate it further, David rubbed the salve on his cheek.

David didn’t know if any one of them was breathing.

“See, I told you they won’t hate you,” David said, voice as soft as a whisper. His fingers were still on Jack’s cheek.

Jack blinked quickly. “What?”

“The boys.”

Jack scoffed. “That’s ‘cause they didn’t know. If they knew their leader ran and almost left --”

“They’d understand,” David said. “They’re your family. They know you just as well as you know them.”

Jack looked at him from under his eyelashes, vulnerable. David realized his hand was still on Jack’s cheek. He withdrew his hand. “Hey, we’re going to get Crutchie back, okay? We won’t let him stay that long in there.”

“Davey --”

David leaned in despite the lack of space between them. “Jack. Listen to me. We’ll win this thing and we’ll get him back.” He shrugged. “Hey, Kath’s probably working on something right now. She said she and Denton are looking into how to help Crutchie.”

“Really?”

“Really.” David smiled. “We’re going to do this, okay?”

In the heartbeat that it took for Jack to smile back, the song played in the background again. David wouldn’t put himself in any more misery by ignoring it, or by denying it.

So he let it play in the background. Let himself soak in the fact.

David Jacobs liked Jack Kelly.


	13. the bottom line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crutchie. The boys. Davey, Les. The Refuge.  
> They would hate him. But better hatred than Refuge.

Jack didn’t know what prompted this -- maybe it was the joy of seeing the boys welcome him again, maybe it’s the high of feeling Davey’s fingers on his cheek -- but when the night fell, Jack found himself in front of _The World,_ smiling at a red-headed woman peering down at him from behind spectacles.

“Good evenin’, ma’am,” he said, doffing his hat. Nothing could knock him down.“I request an audience with Pulitzer.”

“Who are you?” she said, her accent just as evident as Jack’s.

Jack’s smile grew wider. “Jack Kelly, ma’am.”

“Jack Kelly,” she repeated, mostly to herself. She gave him a curt nod. “I’ll be back.”

Jack could touch their triumph, dancing at his fingertips. He was still smiling when the woman came back, leaning him down the building to where he assumed was Pulitzer’s office. 

Pulitzer stood behind his desk, regarding him with an unreadable expression. Behind him, another man stood.

Jack ran up to him. “Evenin’, fellas.”

Pulitzer looked down at him. “Which Jack Kelly is this: the charismatic union organizer or the petty thief and escaped convict?”

Jack kept the smile on his face. “Which one gives us more in common?”

“Impudence is in bad taste when it’s crawling for mercy,” Pulitzer said.

Jack cackled. “Crawlin’, now that’s a laugh. No, I just stopped by with an invite. It seems a few hundred of your employees are rallying to discuss some recent disagreements. Now, I thought it only fair to invite you to state your case directly to the fellas.” He leaned forward on the desk. “So what do you say, Joe, huh? Want us to save you a spot on the bill?”

Pulitzer’s face twisted with disgust. Jack’s grin grew wider. “You are as shameless and disrespectful of a creature as I was told. Do you know what I was doing when I was your age, boy? I was fighting in a war.”

“And how did that turn out for ya?”

“Well it taught me a lesson and shaped my life. You don’t win a war on the battlefield, it’s the headline that crowns the victor.”

“Well I’ll keep that in mind when New York wakes up to front page photos of our rally.” Jack cocked his eyebrow.

Pulitzer shook his head. “Oh, rally till the cows come home. No paper in town will publish a word, and if it’s not in the papers, it never happened.”

“You may run this town, Joe, but there are some of us who can’t be bullied, even some reporters,” Jack said.

A glint in his eyes made Jack want to step back. “Such as that young woman who made you yesterday’s news. Talented girl, and beautiful as well, don’t you think?”

The smile from Jack’s face faded. “I’ll tell her you said so,” he said.

“No need, she can hear for herself. Can’t you, darling?” A movement from one of the chairs caught Jack’s eyes. To his confusion, Katherine stood up, looking everywhere but at him. 

“Kath, what’re you doing here?” 

Katherine faced him then, eyes pleading. “Jack, I --” 

“I trust you know my daughter, Katherine?” Pulitzer said, a relishing grin on his face when Jack failed to answer. “Yes, my daughter. Now, you are probably asking yourself ‘why the nom de plume, and why doesn’t my daughter work for me?’ Good questions. I offered Katherine a life of wealth and leisure, but instead she chose to pursue a career. She showed real promise until this recent lapse. But you’re done with all that now, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

Katherine bristled. She addressed Jack directly, ignoring Pulitzer. “Jack, I didn’t mean to --”

Pulitzer tutted. “Now, don’t fill the boy with your problems, dearest. Mr. Kelly has a plate full of his own, wouldn’t you say, Mr. Snyder?”

A chill ran down Jack’s spine. He was already stepping back when Snyder emerged from the chair beside Katherine, that damned smile on his face. “Hello, Jack.”

Hands closed in on his arms. Morris and Oscar Delancey grinned menacingly at him, keeping him in place. Katherine Plumber Pulitzer kept trying to catch his eyes. Jack kept his gaze on Pulitzer, never grazing Katherine’s and never looking at Snyder.

If it weren’t for the hands on his arms, Jack would have ran away. Or he’d have slipped and fell on his knees. The Refuge flashed behind his eyelines: the rats, the vermins, all the boys pressed on each other in bed. The cut on his lip and the strain on his shoulder as he ran away from it.

The smirk on Pulitzer’s face was maddening but it was the only place Jack could look at without breaking down. Snyder felt like pure terror. Katherine felt like betrayal. 

“Now, does anyone else feel a noose tightening?” Pulitzer said. He stepped out from behind his desk, walking closer to Jack. Jack leaned back as much as he could. “But allow me to offer you an alternate scenario. You attend the rally and speak this hopeless strike, and I’ll see your criminal record expunged and fill your pockets with enough cash to carry you to a first class train departing from New York to New Mexico and beyond.” He turned to Katherine, who was staring at her father with burning loathing. “You did say he wanted to travel west, didn’t you?”

Jack’s voice was low. “There ain’t a person in this room who don’t know you stink.”

“And if they know me, they know I don’t care,” Pulitzer replied. “Mark my words, boy: defy me, and I’ll have you and each and every one of your friends locked up in the Refuge.” 

Jack froze. Out of all the kids in the lodging, only Jack was in the Refuge for an extended amount of time. He couldn’t even bear to imagine Crutchie in that horrible place and now images flashed in front of his eyes: Race and Specs and Albert huddled on the same bed, battered and bruised like he was. Romeo and Elmer and Buttons, all too young to experience the horror of the Refuge.

Jack was in the Refuge for months at a time. He could not let the boys experience that.

Pulitzer prattled on. “I know you’re Mr. Tough Guy, but it’s not right to condemn that little crippled boy to conditions like that.” Jack looked up, mouth drying. _How did he know about Crutchie?_ He turned to Katherine, who shook her head vehemently. Her eyes reflected the anger Jack was feeling.

“And what about your pal?” Pulitzer continued. “Davey and his baby brother, ripped from their loving family and tossed to the rats. Will they ever be able to thank you enough?”

A part of Jack wanted to throw himself at Pulitzer, to knock him off his feet but fear kept him rooted on his spot. Davey was brave; he’d have let his mouth run and God damn it, Jack wished Davey was here.

Pulitzer leveled him with a stare. “So what do you say, Mr. Kelly? Don’t worry, I have a very special place for you to spend the night and...deliberate.” He nodded at the Delanceys. “Take him away, boys. And Jack?” he paused, waiting for Jack to face him. “I expect your answer in the morning.”

Morris and Delancey tightened their hold on him, preparing to drag him out. 

“Get your hands off me,” he growled. “I can walk.”

“Can ya?” Morris sneered. “You know, we been given discretion to handle you as we see fit. So behave.”

Oscar laughed. “Yeah, but just in case, I’ve been polishing my favorite brass knuckles.”

They led him down into the dusty basement, where the only available furniture was covered in a white cloth so dirty it’s almost grey. Morris patted the sheet, grabbing hold of the cloth before yanking his hand. It was a printing press. “You can sleep right here, Jack. On this old printing press, huh?” He slammed his hand down. “Now that there is firm.”

He laughed, throwing the bunched up sheets to Jack. The brothers disappeared.

Jack sat down on the press. It was hard, uncomfortable, but it wouldn't be the most uncomfortable place he had to sleep on. 

Crutchie. The boys. Davey, Les. The Refuge.

They would hate him. But better hatred than Refuge.

The staircase creaked. Jack sat up straight, straining his ears to listen.

“Jack?” It was Katherine. He didn’t want to see her, not right now. He kept her back on her.

“What do you want?” he told her.

“I didn’t sell you out, believe me, I didn’t,” she said. 

“Does it matter?” Jack said. “All that matter is that you didn’t tell the truth, Katherine! All this time you been a Pulitzer! Who knew what you could’ve been telling your father about us, Kath, your father!”

“I never told him anything!” Katherine cried. Her hand landed on his shoulder and he shrugged it off. “He has eyes on every corner of this city. He didn’t hear it from me.”

“Doesn’t matter, he knew. He knew about the Refuge and Crutchie and Davey and the boys!”

Katherine was silent. “Snyder told my father you were arrested stealing food and clothing. You stole to feed those boys. To protect them.”

“Miss Katherine --” Jack took perverse satisfaction on the way Katherine flinched from his use of honorifics -- “I say this as respectfully as a street rat can. I don’t wanna see you right now.”

Heavy breathing filled the basement. Katherine’s retreating footsteps echoed but before she left the room, her voice cut through the air: “Don’t cave for the money. My father never honors his promises.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Medda’s theater was absolutely bursting with newsies. Even before Jack entered the premises, he could hear the loud noises and boys’ shouts. 

The money felt heavy in his pocket. Medda’s grin when she saw him felt even heavier.

“Jack, there you are!” she said, hugging him. Jack didn’t deserve this hug. “Davey was just looking for you, they’re starting.”

“Where?”

“At the stage.”

He started to run towards the stage but he stopped. To Medda, he said, “I’m sorry.”

“What’re you sorry for, kid?” Medda said, still beaming. “The boys are waiting for you!”

 _Not after this, they won’t_. Still Jack put one foot after another, towards the stage.

Race wasn’t kidding when he said they might get the entirety of New York newsies. Medda’s theater was a sea of newsboys and girls with their boroughs painted on scrap wood and cartons. Up on the stage, beside Race and Spot, Davey was speaking.

They would hate Jack for what he had to do, but better hatred than the Refuge. 

Davey looked magnificent up on the stage. He should have been the leader, he’s always been braver than Jack. Jack wanted to run up there and grab him, hold him, say that they’ll win.

But they won’t. Walls were closing in on every side. Better hatred than the Refuge.

“Newsies of New York! Look at what we’ve done!” Davey yelled. The cacophony quietened, drawn to him. He should have been the leader. Jack inched closer, keeping to the shadows. “We got newsies from every pape and every neighborhood here tonight. Tonight, you’re making history. Tonight, we declare that we’re just as much a part of the newspaper as any reporter or editor. We’re done being treated like kids. From now on, they’ll treat us as equals!”

Cheers poured from all sides. Davey was magnificent, has always been, and he deserved better than Jack. Who knew the new kid could floor him this much.

But the image of him and Les in the Refuge flooded his mind. Images of Race and Albert, Romeo and Elmer. All of them, packed like sardines in that hell.

He made himself step forward. “If you want them to talk to you like an adult, start actin’ like one.”

Davey looked at Jack, elated. _Don’t look at me like that_. “Here’s Jack!”

The others cheered. Jack shook his head.

“Alright! Pulitzer raised the price of papes without so much as a word to us, and that was a lousy thing to do. Cause we got mad and, no, we ain’t gonna be pushed around. So we go on strike.” The boys cheered. He continued, ignoring the lump on his throat. “And then what happens? Pulitzer lowers the price so’s that we’ll go back to work.” They hooted, tasting the victory Jack tasted the night before. And what did that land him in? _The World’s_ basement.

“And then a few weeks later, he hikes his price again, and don’t think he won’t, so what do we do then? And what do we do when he decides to hike up his price again after that?” Silence fell all across the theater. 

Jack ran his hand over his hair. “Fellas, we gotta be realistic. If we don’t work, we don’t get paid. How long can you go without money, huh? Believe me. However long, Pulitzer can go longer. But I have spoken to Mr. Pulitzer,” he said, raising his voice, “and he has given me his word, if we disband the union, he will not raise prices again for two years.”

As if someone removed the muzzle on the boys, the theater was once again filled with shouting. This time, all angry and all directed at him. 

A scuffle emerged at the corner. Jack was frozen to the spot as he watched Brooklyn struggle to hold Spot Conlon who was trying his hardest to run at Jack.

“He sold us out!” Spot shouted. “Hey, lemme go. Let me get my hands dirty. Come here you dirty rotten scabber! Traitor!”

Jack forced the words out of his mouth. _“_ I say we take the deal.”

Before Jack could blink, Spot, who had managed to step away from his boys, shoved him. Race, his face fallen and eyes angry, shouldered past him as he ran after Spot.

But it was Davey who broke his heart. Davey, whose eyes had always been expressive, looked at him like he pulled the rug from under him. Davey who looked the most betrayed. 

Jack shouldn’t, but he moved as if to step closer to him “Davey…”

Davey shook his head and stalked off. All around him, the boys were yelling, calling him coward, a traitor. Every word raked down his spine, but he held it. It was for them, what he did. Better they hate him free than love him in the Refuge.

Without looking at them, Jack took off the theater. When he burst out of the doors, he could make out Katherine on the other side of the street, Sarah beside her. She was opening her mouth but before she could shout at him, Jack took off.

Santa Fe. It seemed like a dream.

Jack ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the jack angst starts now 😗✌


	14. the facts i learned tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, this is definitely the longest chapter here, with almost 5k words and i hope you enjoy it!

As soon as  _ The Sun  _ called it a day, Katherine was off and running out of the building.

Before she could get far, Denton stopped her. “Katherine, what’s the rush?”

“The newsies,” she said. She wasn’t sure how much she could say right now; she hoped her words helped Jack realize that her father shouldn’t be trusted. “I don’t know, but I have to find Jack and I think I might need your help.”

Ever since Jack dismissed her last night, her mind has been running. The strike was Jack’s, the rally was Davey’s, but if they want to get her father’s attention, they need to do something so huge her father would be stupid to ignore that.

_ The Children’s Crusade.  _ If Jack did betray the strike, her father would feel secure in his place. A citywide protest of the entirety of New York’s working kids would tell him otherwise. 

“Can you tell me about it right now?” Denton said, but he was walking with her out the building.

“I can’t, but I will later, I promise.”

Denton patted her on the shoulder. “I’ll be waiting in the diner. How long will you be out?”

Katherine exhaled. “An hour or so. You’re heaven sent, Denton!”

“Just doing my job.”

Katherine nodded and ran. At this time, if she was fast, she might be able to catch Jack at the theater, but she needed someone else first.

As if hearing her, Sarah Jacobs was the first person Katherine saw when she turned the corner. She was with Agnes, the girl from the tenement, and she waved her arm upon seeing Katherine.

“Katherine, what are you doing here?” she asked as soon as Katherine was near enough to hear her.

“You told me I’d come to you if I found a way to let you help with the strike,” Katherine said, panting from the run. “Is that offer still open?”

“Yes,” Sarah said immediately. “What can I do?”

“We need to go to the theater where they're holding the rally,” Katherine said. “And hope we’re not too late.” To Agnes, Katherine said: “It was nice meeting you again. I’m sorry we keep meeting like this.”

“It’s okay,” Agnes said. She turned to Sarah. “Go on. I’ll tell Esther about this.”

Sarah squeezed Agnes’s hand. “You’re a gem, Agnes. Did I ever tell you that?”

“Never enough, now go!” Agnes nodded at Katherine. “Best of luck, Katherine.”

“Hope we’ll meet each other properly,” Katherine said.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

With a look at Sarah, the two of them dashed to the theater district, bunching up her skirts a bit to run faster. It was all awfully improper that Katherine’s father would probably have a heart attack upon seeing her. 

Katherine ran faster at the thought.

“Kathy, what’s happening?” Sarah said, keeping her pace.

“It’s Jack,” she explained. “And me, I suppose but -- I hope he didn’t do it!”

“Didn’t do what, Katherine?”

The next turn they’re going to take would lead them to Medda’s theater, and just in time as well. They had the opportunity to see Jack burst out of the doors, panting and face flushed. Katherine didn’t know if Jack saw her but her question was answered, painted plain on Jack’s face.

He did it. He gave up. 

Katherine opened her mouth to call him but before she could say anything, he had shot off, running as fast as he could. 

Sarah, seeing him, called out, “Jack!” She turned to Katherine, confused. “What’s happening? I thought they’ll be holding a rally today.”

“There were but...” Katherine shook her head, desperately trying to form a plan. “I’ll tell you, I promise, and I need to tell the boys -- oh, and Denton!”

“Who?”

“Sarah, could you do me a favor?” 

Sarah nodded. “Anything.”

“Can you go inside and gather the boys?” Katherine asked. “Tell them you’re Davey’s sister and I’m with you, and I have to explain something. If Jack did do what I think he did...” Katherine closed her eyes briefly, gathering her plan in her head. “It would be best not to mention him. The boys might...react negatively.” 

Sarah opened her mouth, a slew of questions probably on her tongue but Katherine reached forward to grab her hand. She stared down at their intertwined hands. “Do you trust me?” Katherine asked her.

A beat. Sarah nodded.

“Then tell them I have a plan to help them and I will explain everything.” She squeezed their hands. “I will get someone I trust. He will help us. We’ll go straight to this theater as soon as we can.”

Sarah nodded. She chewed on her lips, before she leaned forward and kissed Katherine on the cheek. “Good luck, Kathy. See you soon.”

She ran in the theater. With a quick look at her back, Katherine dashed towards Jacobi’s.  _ Oh, God, let this plan be enough _ .

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

David was running.

He didn’t know where he was going but he needed to be out of the theater. Out of the place where Jack took one look at the success they were having and decided to throw it out the window.

What was he thinking? What  _ happened _ ? They were joyous and victorious last night, what happened in between?

He made it out of the fire escape in the back of the building, a few floors up. His lungs were burning. Tears threatened to burst out of his eyes. He collapsed on the steps, panting.

The door opened. Romeo stepped in, followed by Tommy Boy, Elmer, and Mike and Ike. Specs managed to squeeze himself in, holding Les’s hand.

Romeo sat beside him. He looked impossibly young. “What now, Davey?” 

David shook his head. “I don’t know, Romeo. Where are the others?”

Specs answered, “Race ran after Spot. Albert ran after the two of them. The guys are still in the theater, talking to each other. Some might’ve went back to Kloppmann. I dunno much, it all went to hell when Jack said that.”

“Why did Jack say that?” Les asked. When David turned to look at his brother, tears were falling down his cheeks, lips quivering as he cried. 

Les adored Jack. Who knew how hurt the kid is. Davey struggled to keep his composure; he could cry later, when he’s alone. They need someone to look after them.

“I don’t know, Les. I don’t know.”

Tommy Boy spoke up. “What are we gonna do now?”

David looked at all the faces around him. They were too young to be deliberating whether or not they should fight for their livelihood. 

And still, they were too young to be working so hard for so little, and yet here they were. Their bruises were barely fading.

“Jack was right,” David said softly. The boys stayed silent. “Pulitzer will continue to hike the price. I don’t know how long we can go on this strike. But --” He stared at them each in the eyes -- “we’ve come this far. I’m asking you, what do you wanna do? Are you willing to surrender?”

The boys turned to look at each other, a silent conversation happening. David let them be; he would let them decide for themselves.

After a moment, Specs stepped closer in the already crowded fire escape. Aside from David and Jack, Specs was probably the next oldest, along with Race and Albert. “You said it. We come this far. We got Brooklyn and Harlem and everyone else. If we gotta do this without Jack, we’re gonna.”

Elmer looked at David. “How are we gonna do it without Jack?”

Mike spoke up, “We got Davey.”

“Yeah, we got Davey.”

“Yeah!”

David opened his mouth, to refuse or to object, he didn’t know. But their faces stared up at him, hopeful. He can’t let them down.

The door opened once more. Mush barreled in the fire escape and said, “Davey, your sister’s here?”

They clamored to their feet as Sarah peeked from behind Mush. 

“Sarah, what are you doing here?” David asked.

“Katherine has a plan,” Sarah said. “She said to gather everyone in the theater and she’ll explain.”

“But Jack’s gone,” he said.

“I know,” Sarah said. “And she knows but she said she has to explain. She didn’t tell me much but we would appreciate it if we all come back to the theater.”

David worried his lips, nodding. He turned to Specs. “Can you find Race and Spot and Albert? Tell him Katherine’s got a plan and they need to come back right away.” To the other guys, he said, “I guess we have to go back in and wait for Kath.”

Specs nodded before going down the fire escape. The boys all filed out of the balcony but Sarah stopped him before he could get past. “Can I talk to you?”

David caught Les’s eyes and he nodded slightly. “I’ll be there soon as I can.”

Once the boys were out of sight, he turned to Sarah. “What is it?”

She led him back out on the fire escape. “Are you okay?” she said.

David nodded. “Yes, Sarah. Now come on, the boys’ll be waiting.” He tried to sidestep around her but she stopped him again.

“I’m your older sister,” Sarah said softly. Her hand was in his. “You don’t have to pretend around me.”

Maybe it was the way she said it, but the weight of the situation slammed down on him full force. The tears he was trying to stop flowed down his face and soon, he was hiccuping, the way he used to before when he cried.

Sarah stepped closer to hug him. It was very much like when they were young, with Sarah comforting him when he cried. Her hands rubbed circles on his back as he unloaded his chest.

“I don’t know what to do, Sarah,” he said. His chin was on her shoulder and his tears kept on falling. “They were looking at me and they want to be the leader. I’m not the leader, Sarah, I can’t do it. It was Jack all along but...”

“Hey, hey,” Sarah crooned. “It’s gonna be okay.” 

David shook his head. “I’m not sure it’ll be. Jack...he betrayed us. I don’t know what happened but he went up there on the stage and said we’re lost cause. I don’t know what to do, Sarah. I don’t know what to do without him.” 

He had no idea how to lead these boys, no idea how to rally the entirety of New York’s newsies to victory. It was Jack’s voice they listened to, Jack’s figure they followed. David can’t do that on his own.

His chest burned. He blinked and tears blurred his vision, dropping down to his nose to his neck. “How am I going to do it, Sarah? I can’t do it alone. The strike needs him.” He licked his lips. His throat was dry. “I need him.”

“I know, I know,” Sarah was saying.

David’s head was swimming. “I need him,” he repeated, quieter. “I’m not brave or...or loud. I can’t lead them by myself.”

Sarah squeezed his hand. “You’re not alone. The boys will help. I’ll help. Katherine will; she has a plan she’s gonna tell everyone.” She pulled away from him. Her thumb wiped away the tears on his eyes. “We might not be Jack, and I know it’s different with him but we can help you. Like what I said, huh? I’ll help if I could.”

“You’re the best, Sarah,” he said.

“Oh, I know,” she said, smiling. David smiled back, watching her as she stood up. She offered him her hand. “Ready now? Your eyes are a little puffy but it’s not noticeable.”

David took her hand. Sarah’s grin widened.

She slipped an arm through his. “You and Jack?”

David shook his head. “No. I think...I think I like him though. You and Katherine?”

“No.” Sarah shook her head too. “But I think I like her, too.”

David smiled at her, but he can’t seem to get the loneliness off his face. “Hope your story’s happier than mine.”

“Yours will be.” Sarah kissed his cheek. “I promise you that.” 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Denton, what if they hate me?”

Katherine’s hand hovered above the theater door, but she was looking straight at Denton. “My father was the one they were striking against, and I didn’t tell them he was my father, what if they took it hard --”

Denton’s hand landed on her shoulders, stopping Katherine’s rambling. Like he told her, he was waiting at Jacobi’s deli, having ordered a seltzer he only started to drink when Katherine burst through the door and said, “I’m going to tell them who my father is.” To his credit, he followed her out wordlessly into the theater.

“Katherine, they wouldn’t,” Denton assured her. “And if they did, I will be here helping you explain why you didn’t tell them. All right?”

Katherine took a deep breath, nodded, and pushed open the door.

The first thing she noticed was the air of dejection. Boys slumped together, their faces pulled down in a frown. She saw Finch comforting one of the younger kids, nodding hopelessly at Katherine as she passed.

Denton gave her an imperceptible nod. “Go on. I’ll go talk to the other boys.”

He walked off, head bent forward as he conversed with a girl about eleven years old. She wasn’t from Manhattan and from her position, she can hear snippets of their conversation.

“-- your name?”

“Dots. You?”

“Bryan Denton. I work for The Sun --”

Finch walked closer to Katherine. “Davey’s sister says you got news?” he said. His voice was flat, like he didn’t care about what others have to say but has to listen anyway.

Katherine nodded. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Ain’t your fault.”

It was. “Where are Davey and Sarah?” She took a look around. A few faces were missing. “And the others?”

He pointed somewhere up. “Davey’s up there somewhere with his sister. Race and Spot and Albert’re gone, ran off after Jack betrayed us. Specs’s off finding ‘em. ”

Katherine stared at the boys’. Davey was right; they must have got the entirety of New York’s newsboys and newsgirls, and they were overflowing in this theater. She could see a handful of Manhattan boys but the leaders -- older kids like Jack and Race and the others -- were nowhere in sight. Aside from Davey, Finch was the oldest Manhattan newsie.

Finch met Katherine’s eyes. His eyes looked too old for his age, too worldweary, too beaten down. It slammed into Katherine once again how awfully young these boys are.

She reached out to grip Finch’s arm. His eyes closed, his expression faltering just for a moment before it bounced back to his usual grin. “We’s gonna be okay. You got a plan, right?”

“Yeah, and I hope it helps.”

At this moment, Sarah walked in, Davey a few steps behind her. She reached out to grasp her brother’s hand once before she made her way to Katherine. 

Her hand wrapped around Katherine’s arm, grounding her. “You okay?”

“I will be, if these boys don’t hate me afterwards,” Katherine admitted.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Kathy, they will never hate you,” Sarah said, shaking her head as if the mere idea of the newsies hating her was preposterous. “After all you’ve done for them. They wouldn’t.”

“Even if they find out I’m related to Pulitzer?”

Sarah froze. Time slowed down as Katherine watched Sarah process the information. Her chest rose and fell, and there was a different glow in her eyes when she turned to face Katherine, like she was seeing her for the first time.

Katherine wasn’t breathing. She didn’t know how. 

“I can’t speak for them,” Sarah said after an eternity, “but I’ll say that I will forever be grateful for the help you’re giving my brothers. It must’ve taken you a great deal of courage to go against your family, and you did it.”

Relief swelled in Katherine’s chest. She reached forward to hug Katherine just as Specs ran in, Albert, Race, and the kid Katherine surmised was Spot behind him.

“We’re complete,” Specs said. Spot stalked towards the Brooklyn boys, while the three of them joined the circle of Manhattan Newsies. Davey leaned forward and spoke to the boys. Katherine was too far to hear but they were saying, but she could make out the nods they shared.

His eyes flicked up and caught Katherine staring at him. He nodded stiffly before standing up to address the crowd.

“Newsies.” His voice wasn’t particularly loud, but it carried across the room in its solemn silence. “We -- I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but the Manhattan Newsies are continuing the fight.”

There was a beat before --

“When Brooklyn says they’re in, they’re in,” Spot said.

“Queens’ in!”

“So’s the Bronx!”

“Richmond’s here!”

The boroughs shouted their assent and a grin spread across Davey’s face. “We’re still in,” he said. “And we still have a plan. Katherine?”

Sarah gave her hand a squeeze before pushing her softly forward. The boys parted, giving her a clear way up on stage. 

Dozens of pairs of eyes pinned on Katherine as she stood to face the newsies. Her hands were trembling and she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when Davey walked towards the stage and stood behind her.

Denton, Katherine saw, was making his way to the foot of the stage. He gave her an encouraging smile, prompting her to start.

“Hi, everyone.” Thankfully, her voice was steady. “For those who don’t know me, I’m Katherine Plumber and together with Mister Bryan Denton --” With shaking hands, Katherine extended her arm to Denton, who bowed humbly before motioning her to move on -- “we wrote the article about the strike. Before I tell you the plan, I have to tell you something as well. I know the reason why Jack Kelly said what he said a while ago.”

Silence fell over the theater. Katherine could hear her labored breathing as the boys leaned forward, intrigued. She took a deep breath, licking her lips. “Pulitzer bribed him.”

“So he tossed us over for some money?” A newsie Katherine didn’t know yelled.

“No, no,” Katherine hurried, shaking her head. “He did, but it wasn’t the money he caved for, I think. He threatened you, all of you.” Her eyes swept over the sea of children who waited for her next words with bated breath. “Some boroughs might not know but one of the Manhattan newsie, Crutchie, was thrown into the Refuge --” The boys flinched as one, and of course they would. The way Snyder and Jack talked of the Refuge made it very clear to Katherine that it was anything but a safe place.

“He threatened to throw you all with him. Most of all, he threatened one of the leaders of strike.” Katherine looked pointedly at Davey who was staring back at her with an open mouth. All over the theater, the newsies were talking all at the same time.

“How do we know you’s tellin’ the truth?” a newsie asked.

Katherine closed her eyes. Here goes. “Because I was there.” A shocked silence gripped the theater. Katherine barreled on. “I told you my name is Katherine Plumber and it is. It’s my professional name. My real name is Katherine Pulitzer.”

The theater exploded with the noise of a hundred or so newsies speaking all at once. Katherine kept her eyes staring straight ahead, right on Sarah. She let the noise wash over her, numbing her.

“Let her speak!” Les yelled from the crowd, pulling Katherine out of her daze. “Listen to what she gotta say!”

Somehow, it did the job and the theater was quiet again. Katherine spoke. “I would understand it if you would prefer not to talk to me after this. But let me help with the strike, I promise I’m on your side.”

A pause. Then two things happened simultaneously. First, Sarah, who was standing in the back, strode forward. Her fervent steps caused the newsies to jump out of the way as she kept walking towards the stage. Towards Katherine.

Second, Denton ran up the stage to stand behind her. He got there just in time to see Sarah turn to face the crowd.

“You don’t know me, so let me introduce myself.” Her voice was loud, louder than Katherine’s and so much more confident. “My name is Sarah Jacobs, and I am David and Les’s older sister. I’m going to tell you an incident that will show how desperate Pulitzer must have been in stopping this strike.”

She turned to look at Katherine, as though asking for permission. Katherine didn’t know what for, but she nodded. 

Sarah faced the crowd again. “Yesterday, after my working hours, two young men accosted me just before I came across Newsie Square. Some ‘Hattan boys might recognize them. The Delanceys, if my brother told me correctly.”

From behind her, Davey took in a sharp breath. Without thinking, Katherine extended her arm out. For a horrible second, it hovered between them before Davey reached out and grasped her hand.

“They wanted to ‘pass a message’ to the leader of the strike,” Sarah continued. “I got away but it tells you how desperate they are if they stopped the sister of the leader in broad daylight. I’m not taking the decision away from you,” she assured them. “But we’re gonna need all the help we can to win this.”

Sarah stepped back but Katherine caught her hand and held her in place. Hand in hand, Katherine and the Jacobs stood as the newsies conferred.

Davey turned to Sarah. “The Delanceys did that?”

“Yeah, but I got a punch in, like Papa taught me.”

Davey laughed out loud, and Katherine managed to crack a smile before Race stood on a chair. The noise died down. 

“I was starting out when Jack got out of the Refuge,” he said. “And was workin’ long enough when he escaped for the last time. Refuge did somethin’ to him, he never talked to us about any of it. Maybe that’s it, right? He got scared of goin’ back to the Refuge.”

“Enough to betray us?” someone shouted.

“Well, how many of you’s been in the Refuge?” he cried. No one spoke. “That’s what I thought.”

“I’s been in the Refuge,” someone said quietly. “Ain’t never goin’ back again.”

Race turned to Katherine. “I’m speakin’ for meself but you ain’t your father, Katherine. You’ve been helping us and I would appreciate a little more help.”

A pause, then Davey stepped forward. “Tell us your plan, Kath.”

Katherine exhaled. She didn’t want to let go of the Jacobs siblings’ hands but she had to. She dug through her bag and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.

“The Children’s Crusade,” she read from the paper. “‘For the sake of all the kids in every sweatshop, factory, and slaughterhouse in New York, I beg you: Join us.’” She looked around the theater. “Jack’s...Jack’s words at the start of the strike inspired this. He said, ‘For the sake of every working kid in New York City, throw down your papers’. With this, the strike stops about being the newsies; it becomes about everyone.”

“Every working child from the factories beyond,” Denton said, speaking for the first time. With trembling hands, Katherine handed the paper she did. It was full of scribbles and crossed-out words. Katherine held her breath as he read through it quickly. 

He nodded, grinning widely.

Katherine could cry with happiness.

“If every worker under twenty-one read it and stayed home from work-- or better yet, they came to Newsies Square for a rally. A general, city-wide strike.” She shook her head, hardly believing it. “Even my father could not ignore that.”

Spot called out, “Where do we print it?”

“I still don’t know. If worse comes to worst, we might just sneak into  _ The World _ , though they would definitely notice it come morning.”

“What time do we start?” Albert said. There was electricity in the air, vibrating as they grasped that maybe, just maybe, they could win.

“Before midnight,” Katherine said. “At  _ The World _ . I don’t know how long it would take but we need to finish printing before morning.”

“We can catch the workers going to their job if we time it right,” Sarah said. “And if we scatter across Manhattan.”

“We can shut down this city.” Davey’s words sent shivers down Katherine’s spine and judging by the exhale the room gave, they felt it too.

“What are we going to do about Jack?” Romeo asked. Murmurs echoed in the chamber.

“Jack is probably on the next train to Santa Fe,” Davey said, his voice a mix of vitriol and sorrow. “He’s probably gone.”

“Maybe not,” Specs said. “He might still be at Kloppmann’s.”

“And what should we do?” Davey said. “Should we go and talk to him? We don’t --” He cut himself off, staring passively ahead. He didn’t end the sentence but Katherine knew what he was going to say.

_ Need him. _

“But you do,” she said softly so only he could hear.

“Kath,” he said warningly. 

“Davey.” She shot him a pointed look. “Someone had to tell him.”

“Why me?”

“There’s a chance he won’t listen to me,” Katherine said. “But Jack would listen to you. He always does.”

Davey shook his head. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Just talk to him. Try.”

Davey closed his eyes, sighing. “No promises.” To the crowd: “I’ll try to talk to Jack, but I won’t promise anything.”

There’s some grumbles but no one objected. “All right, any questions?” Silence. “Then I’ll see you at  _ The World  _ by midnight.” 

It was a clear dismissal. The newsies turned to each other, abuzz with excitement. Davey faced Sarah.

“Will you be going home?” he asked. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to come home for tonight.”

“I will,” Sarah said. “But I’ll be back. I’m in, David, don’t argue.” She raised an eyebrow when Davey opened his mouth to argue.

“Fine, but don’t let Les stay for night. Mama would riot if all three of us are out.”

“All right.”

With one hug to Sarah, Davey turned as if to jump off the stage to join the Manhattan newsies. Before he did, Katherine caught his arm.

“You really need to talk to him,” she said.

Davey shook his head. “I’ll try, like I said, but I don’t think why I should.”

“He’d listen to you. Here.” Katherine dug through her bag. Jack’s drawing from a few days back was crumpled, but it was still noticeable. His and Katherine’s profiles were evident still, with Davey’s face occupying more than half the page.

Davey’s face softened when he saw the drawing, and his hands held the picture in reverence. 

“That’s why,” Katherine said.

“When was this?”

“Theater.”

Davey closed his eyes briefly. “No promises, Kath.”

Katherine surged forward to hug him, squeezing him before he jumped off the stage to join Manhattan. 

When he disappeared into the sea of newsies, Katherine turned to Denton. “It’s a rough draft, the Crusade, but I think --”

“I think it’s perfect,” Denton said. “I’m just going to add some more to this, edit a little, and we’re good. Remember what I told you.” He looked at her, smiling. “Don’t lose your passion.”

Katherine was grinning. When she turned to Sarah, she threw her arm around Katherine, beaming. “You were amazing!”

“And so were you!” Katherine exhaled, laughing. “I can’t believe we’re doing it.” Her mind was moving fast; another plan was forming. “Do you mind if I come with you? I need to ask a favor from a couple of friends. They might help.”

Sarah nodded. “All right. Let me go get Les.”

When Sarah smiled, Katherine could taste victory in the air.


	15. something to believe in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> editing is for the weak 🤩

David didn’t know where he was going; his feet were striking the ground hard he knew it would hurt in a moment but he can’t feel it at the moment. The thought of finding Jack was the only thing running in his mind.

Had it only been yesterday when they found Jack at Medda’s? Just today when Jack stood up in front of the newsies to tell them to drop the strike, today when Katherine went up to the crowd to reveal she’s Pulitzer’s daughter.

It was too fast, too jarring. David felt like the world was ripped from under his feet, leaving him lost.

He found himself bursting into Kloppmann’s Lodging, panting and out of breath. “Is Jack here?”

Kloppmann, looking up from checking the logbook, shook his head. “All you newsies on that theater, ain’t you?”

David’s face fell. “He’s not back? Can I come in, wait for him?” 

“Make yourself at home.”

David nodded and dashed up the stairs. The newsies’ bedroom was deserted but the window to the fire escape was wide open. David ducked out of the room and climbed up Jack’s penthouse, where Specs pointed out where Jack would be.

The sight of this place sent a stab through David’s heart. Yesterday he was here, with Jack, drunk in their eventual success.

Jack’s items were still scattered across the floor; he hadn’t left for Santa Fe yet. David sat down beside his makeshift bed, exhausted.

Katherine’s word sat heavy within David. Jack’s sketch of him and Katherine was heavier.

They have to win this fight, and hopefully Katherine’s plan will take them to the finish, with or without Jack. 

But Katherine was right. David needed Jack. He didn’t know how to do this without him.

A roll of paper sticking out of Jack’s items caught David’s attention. Curious, he unrolled it, taking one out.

It was Jack’s drawing all right. The sketches and the lines were similar to what Katherine gave him, but Jack’s depiction of them was vastly different. In the drawing from the theater, David and Katherine were lovely, artistically rendered. It was a sight to behold.

The drawing from the roll was horrifying. Three boys huddled in bunk beds placed even closer than those at Kloppmann’s with all sorts of filth on the floor. This drawing lacked the adoration the previous sketch had, bearing all the anger and frustration and fear in one stroke.

This is the Refuge. David shivered. 

“How’d you get up here?”

David swiveled, nearly dropping the drawing as he came face to face with an angry Jack. He swallowed his uneasiness.

“I need to talk to you,” David said.

Jack’s gaze fell to the paper on his hands and his face twisted in fury. In a few quick steps, he snatched it from David’s hands. “You needed to go through my stuff, too?”

“I saw them rolled up sticking out of there, I didn’t know what they were,” David defended himself. Jack spared him no glance, instead choosing to roll up his drawings. “These are drawings of the refuge, aren’t they?” 

Jack’s silence was answer enough.

“Is that really what it’s like in there? Three boys to a bed, rats everywhere and vermin?”

“Does it matter?” Jack spat. David almost took a step back. He had seen Jack angry but that anger was never directed at him. 

“Yes!” David said, trying to keep his temper in check. He stepped closer to Jack. “Because I know why you… you said that! Katherine told us --”

“She told you she’s Pulitzer’s daughter?” Jack snapped.

“Yes, and she told us she had a plan, Jack!” 

“She turned her back on us!” 

“She didn’t!” David yelled. “If you just listen to me and hear the plan out--”

Jack scoffed. “Katherine’s plan? No, thank you.”

David’s temper frayed. “For once, Jack, listen! It’s a perfectly good plan! Don’t turn your back on them -- on us.”

Jack’s laugh was harsh. “Oh, that’s rich. I ain’t turning my back on them, I’m protecting them!”

“By leaving them all alone? That’s not protection, Jack!”

“Don’t you dare lecture me right now,” hissed Jack, steeping closer. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“But I do,” David said. “I know Pulitzer threatened you about the Refuge. I told you, Katherine told us!”

Jack shook his head, putting space between them. “Here we go with Katherine again.”

“God damn it, Jack, do you hear yourself speak?” David cried. 

A dark shadow fell on Jack’s face. “If the fellas won’t kill me for it, you’d be tryin’ to talk with a fist in your mouth,” he sneered. 

Jack’s seeming ambivalence towards this strike pushed David to the edge. He curled his hand, raising the fist in front of him. “And if you don’t stop talking like that, you’d be looking at me through one swollen eye!”

In one fluid movement, Jack stepped right in David’s space, placing his chin over David’s raised fist. “Don’t let that stop ya. Give it your best shot!” 

Jack’s face was an inch from David’s, jaw clenched and eyes wide open. Their breaths mixed. David’s clenched hand shook.

Jack was too close. David could see every clenched muscle on his neck, feel every breath and see every color in his eyes.

David grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him.

It wasn’t pretty -- it was rough and angry and David poured all the uncertainty he felt for the past few days.

For one horrible second, Jack stayed still. Then before David could react, he was kissing him back, just as hungry and desperate as David was. His hands found its way on David’s waist, pulling him closer and closer and closer --

David stumbled back a step. The space between them seemed miles, the air hot and heavy.

No one moved.

Jack leaned in closer, chasing after David’s lips again. It was softer in its movement, more hesitant, and there’s nothing David wanted more than to kiss him again but he reached out to stop him. His touch on his arm was light, but Jack halted.

When Jack spoke, his voice was higher. “What?”

“Did you --” David wet his suddenly dry lips -- “Did you cave for the money?”

Jack stared at him for a moment, breathing heavily. “There’s money, but -- no, Davey, I --”

“Is it because of the threats?” Davey asked. “The Refuge?”

Even the mere mention of the Refuge weighed down on Jack. He closed his eyes, breaths coming in more labored. David tightened his hold on his arm but he did not move closer. 

After an eternity of a second, Jack opened his eyes and nodded. “You and Les and the boys...” Jack trailed off. “I couldn’t bear thinkin’ of Crutchie in that hell hole, I ain’t gonna lose you too.”

David’s heart stuttered in his chest. “You’re not gonna lose us.”

Jack shook his head. “If I didn’t betray the strike and lose all your trusts, Snyder’s gonna come to get ya all locked in the Refuge.” He bit his lip. “Either way, I lose you.”

“You don’t,” David repeated. “Yes, the guys are hurt, but Katherine explained it all. If you come with me to  _ The World _ , you can explain it all. You’re not going to lose them.”

Jack didn’t look any better, and David wanted nothing more than to hold him close, to let him know that the guys could never hate him, not really. Instead, he said, “Did you mean what you said? At the rally.”

“I spoke the truth,” Jack said “You win a fight when you got the other fella down, eatin’ pavement. Pulitzer’s right, it don’t matter how many days we strike, he ain’t never giving up. I don’t know what else we can do.”

“Katherine has a great plan,” David said. “Wanna hear about it?”

A little bit of life sparked in Jack. “I’m all ears.”

David leaned back, smiling. “She and Denton’s gonna publish another article inviting all the kids to come join us,” he explained. “An invitation to all the factory kids and the slaughterhouse to come join us in Newsie Square. It’s like what you said on the first day.”

“I’m listenin’ but...” Jack trailed off. “Only one problem: We got no way to print it.”

David shrugged. “There’s gotta be one press we can use. Katherine’s last resort was to break in  _ The World  _ and use a press.”

At this, Jack’s expression shifted. He leaned back, shaking his head incredulously. “Oh, no,” he said. He looked at David straight in the eye disbelievingly. “Oh, no,” he repeated. 

“What?”

“I know where there’s a printing press no one would ever  _ think  _ we’d use,” Jack said.

“Then come on, tell the guys about it!” Davey could see their success tomorrow morning -- the outpour of kids joining them. All of them, all the little guys, shutting down a city as big as New York. He started to climb down the fire escape, beaming at Jack.

“Hey, hey, wait, stop.” Jack reached out to touch him. His eyebrows furrowed and he almost looked… nervous. David had never seen Jack look like this.

Slowly, David climbed back up. “Yeah?”

“What’s -- what’s this about for you?” David opened his mouth, but Jack continued on. “I don’t mean the strike and all, what’s this about?” He waved his hand between the two of them.

Jack refused to meet his eyes. “Am I kidding myself, or… I mean, is there really somethin’...?”

Hesitantly, David reached out to touch him. They weren’t holding hands, not really, but it seemed to ground Jack. “Of course there is,” he said.

Relief flooded Jack’s face. “Well, don’t just say that like it happens every day!” he exclaimed.

“Jack --”

Jack shook his head. “No, no. I’m not an idiot! I know guyslike you don’t go for guys like me. But, I don’t want you promisin’ nothin’ that you’re just gonna take back later.”

The air between them was heavy. David feared his heart would give out on him.

Jack continued, “Tonight, starin’ at you… I’m scared tomorrow’s gonna come and change everything.” He shook his head. “If there was a way I grab hold of something to make time stop, just so I can keep lookin’ at you.”

Davey held his hand then properly.” You snuck up on me, Jack Kelly. I never even saw it coming.”

The hope in Jack’s eyes was a sight to behold. “For sure?”

David smiled. “For sure. I only knew about it yesterday. In this lodging.”

Jack laughed. “I knew it from the start. Why d’ya think I was so insistent on helpin’ you?”

“Because you were a good person?” David said, laughing. “Wait, Katherine gave me this.”

The sketch was hopelessly crumpled but David held it up like it was the most beautiful piece of art he’s ever seen. Jack reached out to touch it.

“That was so long ago,” he said. His finger traced Katherine’s outline, then David’s.

“It was the theater,” David pointed out. “That were days ago.”

“It felt longer than that,” Jack said.

“Yeah, it did.” David squeezed Jack’s hand. “Whatever happens tomorrow, I’d be here for you, you know that? I believe in you.”

Jack dropped their hands to throw his arms around David. David melted in that hug, pulling Jack closer and kissing his temple. 

He could stay in that hug forever but there’s work to be done. With one squeeze, he pulled himself from the hug and motioned at the fire escape.

“Come on. They’re waiting for you.” David walked towards the fire escape but paused before he could climb down. “Bring your drawings. We might use them.”


	16. once and for all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! things have been...hectic and stressful and so i haven't been able to edit much. but hey, i hope you enjoy this chapter! i'll try my best to upload the last chapter within the week :-)

A small crowd of Manhattan newsies had gathered by the steps. From the shadows, Jack could make out Katherine, Sarah, and Denton among the boys, as well as two well-dressed men that he didn’t recognize.

They hadn’t noticed Jack and Davey yet, but Jack could already feel the weight of the boys’ stares when they walked in. Jack backed off. 

“Maybe I ain’t supposed to be here,” he said.

Before he could slip away, Davey grabbed hold of his hand. “Jack.”

Jack shook his head. When he walked up that stage, he was fully prepared for the boys to hate him, but he didn’t think he’ll still be here to see the repercussions of his betrayal.

Davey’s hand grounded him in this moment, giving it one squeeze before letting go. “I told you, Katherine explained everything. Some might be angry still but… they won’t stay angry at you forever, Jack.”

“They could.” Jack thought about the grudges the boys hold on some of their family and folks. If anything, street rats knew how to hold grudges.

“You know them better than I do. You know they won’t.”

Before Jack could answer, a hush fell on The World’s steps. When Jack looked at the crowd, they were looking back at him. A silence unlike any Jack had ever experienced with the boys stretched in the space between them.

No one moved.

Then Katherine moved forward, followed by Sarah. The itch to run away enveloped Jack again but Davey’s presence beside him compelled him to stay put.

Katherine threw her arms around Davey. After pulling away, she gave Jack a small smile. “Glad you’re here, Jack,” she said.

“If you’ll have me.”

“Of course we have you,” Katherine said. “Davey filled you in on the plan?”

Jack nodded, if a bit awkwardly. He didn’t know where he stood with Katherine ever since he found out she was Pulitzer’s daughter. “It’s good.”

“Thank you,” Katherine said, smiling. “Being a boss doesn’t mean you got all the answers, just the smarts enough to snatch the right one.”

“Don’t think I’m the boss anymore, Kath,” he said.

Katherine shrugged, undeterred. “We’ll see.”

Davey interrupted. “We got something that would help us,” he said. He nudged Jack and hesitantly, Jack handed Katherine his drawings.

Katherine unrolled it with reverence. Beside her, Sarah and Denton leaned in closer. Jack could hear the exact moment they figured his drawings out, judging by the gasps it elicited.

Denton and Katherine exchanged a glance.

“We could use it,” Denton said. He tapped the paper. “Especially this one, where you drew the Newsie Square.” Jack knew what drawing Denton was referring to: the Newsie Square filled to the brim with children hawking headlines and shuffling home from work. It was drawn when Crutchie had a particularly bad day and couldn’t sell and Buttons, Elmer, and Smalls caught a cold.

Davey nudged Jack. “Jack said he knew a press we could use,” he said.

Katherine beamed. It was unnerving how normal everyone was acting; it’s like the past few hours hadn’t happened. “Well, come on, we gotta go there!”

Katherine waved the boys over and Jack could feel eyes settling on him as newsies flocked their group. 

“So where’s the press?” Katherine asked. “We might wait for the others to come before we go there --”

“We’re already here,” Jack interrupted. 

Katherine paused. “The World?”

“There’s a press in the basement,” Jack said. “Your father ain’t gonna think we’ll use that one.”

Katherine frowned. “I didn’t see a -- oh.” Jack could see the exact moment Katherine pieced it together. “That’s where you slept?”

Jack waved his hand dismissively. “Ain’t the worst place I slept.” Katherine was still frowning and Jack hurried on. “What’s the plan?”

“Some of us will sneak in the building and open the windows,” Katherine said. “We can’t exactly sneak in all the newsies so some of you’ll have to go in through the windows.” Her expression crumpled, like she wanted to say she was sorry.

Davey reached out to her. “It’s fine, Katherine. Who’s going in?”

“I was thinking you, me, Sarah, Denton, Race, and Jack, plus Bill and Darcy.” Katherine pointed at the two young men dressed nicely behind her. She pointed at the closest boy, who waved slightly. “Everyone, this is Darcy. He knows just about everything there is to know about printing.”

“You work for one of the papes?” Race asked.

“My father owned the Trib,” he said.

Jack gaped at the guy. Katherine, not noticing the awe the newsies showed, continued on, pointing at the shorter guy.

“And this is Bill, he’ll be typesetting the article for us.”

“Bill?” Jack said. To lighten the mood, he added, “So I suppose you’re the son of William Randolph Hearst, huh?” 

The boy grinned. “And proud to be part of your revolution!” he said proudly.

By instinct, Jack shared a look with Race, whose dumbfounded expression mirrored Jack’s. Then suddenly, he seemed to remember Jack’s betrayal and he averted his gaze.

Jack’s heart sank.

Race stepped close to Davey, not looking at Jack. Katherine held out her hand, where a ring of keys hung between her fingers.

“You got enough keys there for the entire building,” Jack pointed. “You been picking daddy’s pockets?”

Katherine laughed. “The janitor’s been working here since he was eight and hasn’t had a raise in twenty years. He’s with us one hundred percent.” She looked around her. “You guys ready?”

Davey’s hands rested on the small of Jack’s back, just for a second, just enough to calm Jack down. “Yeah, we are.”

“All right.” Katherine nodded nervously. Sarah’s hand landed on Katherine’s shoulder, and Katherine shot Sarah a thankful smile. “See you all on the other side. Follow me.”

Katherine led them to a back door, their footsteps echoing through the empty building. The stairs to the basement was a sight too familiar for Jack. 

Beside Jack, Davey’s hand brushed against his, a feather light touch.

“I’ll get the lights, you get the windows unlocked,” Katherine said. Davey went to the window Sarah was trying to open. Jack approached Race, who studiously ignored him.

“Racer, I’m --” he started.

“Save it,” Race said, tone clipped. “I’m still angry at’cha.” But his eyes softened, just a little. “But it’s good to have ya back again.”

It’s as much forgiveness as Race can give him and Jack accepted it. He watched as Race leaned out the window to waved the kids in. One by one, they slipped through the windows. Jack let Race handle them.

When Spot Conlon snuck in, he faced Jack fully. “Don’t know what Pulitzer did to make ya do that, but I'm glad you got your head back together.”

He spat in his palm and held out his hand expectantly. A weight Jack didn’t know was weighing him down was lifted. He spat in his own palm and shook Spot’s.

Spot smirked. “Welcome back. Don’t make scabbin’ a hobby.”

“Don’t plan to.”

The atmosphere felt lighter, like he was walking on air. A couple of the boys gave him a smile, and Specs even came and ruffled Jack’s hair the way he used to. 

Davey’s blinding grin when he approached was a bonus. “I told you they won’t hate you,” he said. Jack wanted to kiss him so bad.

He didn’t. He turned around just in time to see Katherine pull back the sheet to reveal the press. “Well, here she is, boys,” she said, extending her arms as the boys stepped closer to look at the machine.

Race stood beside Jack. “Is this what they print the papes on?” he asked.

Darcy inspected the machine, hand ghosting over the press. “I can see why they tossed this old girl down in the cellar, but I think she’ll do the job,” he said. 

“A little grease and she’ll be good to go,” Bill added.

Katherine beamed. “Now just think: While my father snores blissfully in his bed, we will be using his very own press to bring him down. ” 

Davey faced the expectant newsies. “Alright, here’s how we’ll work: Bill, Darcy, and Denton’ll work on the papes and they’ll spread them to every working kid in New York in the morning. After that...” he trailed off.

Jack picked up the sentence. “After that, it’s up to them.” Davey reached over to clap his shoulder, prompting him to continue. “Tomorrow we’re showin’ all of New York the power of the working kids. We’re tellin’ them they can’t beat us or bribe us to surrendering. We ain’t come this far to lose.”

Jack inspected each and every face looking at him. They were fearful, nervous, but most of all they were hopeful. He looked for a trace of mistrust in them and waited for someone to challenge him -- who’d want a  _ scab  _ to lead them? But there was none and the words poured out of Jack.

“We ain’t hawking headlines now, we’re makin’ them,” he said. “In the morning, it’ll be a war out there for us, but we’ll show them we’re done being kept outta sight. They’ll have to listen to us, and we ain’t giving them no choice at that. Once and for all, change is coming.”

A cheer rose from which Sarah and Katherine hastily hushed. Jack’s words seemed to invigorate the newsies and they eagerly await Katherine’s instructions for them.

Amidst the chaos, Sarah approached Jack. “That’s quite the speech.”

Jack rubbed his neck. “It’s nothing. It’s a counter to the one I did in the theater.”

Sarah shot him a look. It was scary how eerily similar Davey’s and Sarah’s stares were. She didn’t have to speak for Jack to get the message:  _ You’re being stupid _ . 

“You don’t have to atone for everything all the time, Jack,” she said. “I don’t know much, but the guys aren’t mad at you. You don’t have to punish yourself.”

Jack stared at Sarah for a long time. “Did I ever tell you how similar you and Davey is?”

“You haven’t,” Sarah said. “But if both David and I said that, you know we’re right.”

Before Jack could reply, Katherine called out, “Sarah? Do you mind helping me here?”

Sarah raised an eyebrow before leaving. Not even a minute later, Davey came closer to Jack. “Did Sarah say anything to you?” 

“Nothin’ you didn’t tell me already,” Jack said. “About the boys not hatin’ me and stuff.”

Davey nodded, relieved. “Well, let’s get to work.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The sun was nearly breaking into the horizon when they finished printing the papers. Katherine, grabbing a paper, beckoned all of them forward.

She read, “In the words of union leader Jack Kelly, ‘We will work with you, we will even work for you, but we will be paid, and treated as valuable members of your organization.’” She paused, allowing the silent but jubilant applause to fill every corner of this dusty room. “Riveting stuff, huh?”

“So, what’s next?” A Richmond newsie asked.

Katherine grabbed a stackful of paper and handed it to the closest newsie. “We go back to our boroughs and hand this to every working kid we see.”

Sarah followed suit, handing out stacks to papers around the kids. “But Katherine and I had a different job.”

“Oh, really?” Davey asked. When Jack turned to look at him, his eyes were nearly closing, but as if sensing Jack’s gaze on him, he turned and gave him a small smile.

“If we’re going to want to win this  _ now _ ,” Katherine said, smiling deviously, “we got to make a spectacle big enough my father would have to notice.”

Jack leaned closer to Race. “Remind me to stay on her good side,” he said in a stage whisper, causing a small burst of laughter to erupt.

Katherine replied with a terrifying grin. She clapped her hands. “Well, we need to wrap this up. And see you soon.” 

Katherine went to Bill and Darcy, who also had a couple of papers in their arms. This prompted the newsies to get their papers. 

Jack took advantage of this chaos to approach Davey. “You okay?”

Davey smiled, hefting his own stacks of paper. If Jack could capture that smile -- the curve of his lips and the light in his eyes -- he would. “A little beat but I’ll be fine.”

“Wanna come with me?” Jack asked hopefully.

“I’d love to,” Davey said, “but I need to swing by our home. I’ll meet you all at the Square?”

Jack tried not to show his disappointment. “Oh.”

“We have a lot of time, Jack.” Davey took Jack’s hand and squeezed it. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

Jack grinned. “Yeah.”

Davey squeezed his hand once more before walking towards Sarah. That grin was still on Jack’s face when Race walked up to him, a devilish smile on his face.

“So,” Race said. “You and Davey?”

Jack shoved him. “Shaddup.”

Race roared with laughter. “‘Bout time. You damn near killed us back at the lodging.”

“Shut up,” Jack repeated but he and Race were laughing like they did before.

Katherine clapped. “All right, everyone,” she said. “This is it. If we manage to pull this off...” Katherine trailed off, turning her head to look at Sarah. “Well, we’ll win. I have one more ace up my sleeve and hopefully, it’ll turn out fine.”

“Care to tell us that ace, Ace?” Jack asked. 

Katherine laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, it’ll be better if it’s a surprise,” she told him.

“I have to go to the Sun,” Denton said. For someone who hasn’t slept for the night, Denton was surprisingly awake. He was leaning heavily against the wall though. “But if you boys made enough ruckus, I’m sure I’ll be back on Newsie Square soon.”

“Oh, we’s gonna bring enough ruckus you’ll hear it in New Jersey,” Spot said and the boys cheered.

“Before we part, any parting words, union leader?” Katherine smiled and Jack damn near startled when every eye swept to him, waiting his words.

Something akin to belongingness settled into his bones, as blinding as the moonlight slipping in from the windows.

Jack cleared his throat. “Ya heard Kath, we hafta win.” He tried to pull himself up straighter. “This is our chance to tell Pulitzer and Heartz we ain’t gonna bend to their will. They will treat us as equals --” Jack caught his breath as Davey shot him a dazzling smile -- “We workin’ kids hold this city together and we will show them our strength tomorrow! Without us, New York’ll be paralyzed and it  _ will  _ be paralyzed until they understand we ain’t something they can throw away!”

The guys cheered. 

“We’ll see ya at Newsie Square.”

They hefted their papers and one by one, they climbed out of the window. Jack caught Davey in the middle of an intense discussion with Sarah.

Katherine approached him. “I am glad you’re back,” she told him.

“I’m glad I’m back, too,” he said. “I’ll see you on the other side, yeah?”

“You won’t get rid of me that easy,” Katherine replied, laughing. She drew him in a tight hug.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The Newsie Square was bare.

All the other newsies went back to their boroughs hours ago, distributing their paper but they haven’t come back yet. Save for Lower Manhattan newsies, the streets were empty.

A rustle on the side caught Jack’s attention. Davey ran in, hand in hand with Les. Davey’s face fell as he saw the newsies all slumped against the statue.

“Where’s everyone?” he asked.

Jack shrugged. “I dunno.”

Les looked around. “They’ll be back! They gotta come back!”

“Yeah, kid,” Jack said, “they’ll be.”

Davey made his way to Jack. He nudged him with his shoulder. “Hey, don’t look so down,” he said. “They’ll come.”

Jack gave him a small smile. “Yeah, I hope so.”

Davey smiled back but before he can do anything stupid like kiss him in front of everyone, Les’s voice rang. “Jack!”

Everyone scrambled to their feet. They heard the tinny shouts and stomping feets before they saw it: on all sides, working kids poured into Newsie Square. On their hands were signages handily written on cardboard and spare wood and cloth. 

Their voices filled the square.

Jack’s heart leapt to his chest. They came. They  _ came _ .

“Race, you hold the fort down,” Jack said and it’s a miracle he could be heard amidst the cheers. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Spot Conlon shaking hands with Albert. “Me and Davey and Spot’s gotta talk to Pulitzer.”

Race nodded, smiling. “Gotcha, Cap’n,” he said. 

Spot reached them, a shark like grin on his face. “Jack-boy,” he greeted.

Jack reached out to clasp Spot on the shoulder. “We’s goin’ to talk to Pulitzer,” Jack said. He caught Davey’s eyes. “You ready?”

Davey nodded. Spot bared his teeth. 

Jack stood taller. “Here we go.”

From the crowd, Jack managed to spot Denton. He doffed his hat to him before they entered  _ The World _ .

There was no bull on the gates, no one to stop them. A man stood just outside Pulitzer’s office and before he could stop them, Jack ran in, laughing.

“You can’t just barge in here!” the man outside Pulitzer’s office yelled.

Jack ignored him. He slapped a paper down on Pulitzer’s desk. “Good morning, fellas!”

Pulitzer scowled at the paper. When he stared at Jack, his eyes were furious. “You’re behind this?” he growled. “We had a deal!”

Jack dug through his pockets, pulling out the wad of cash. “And it came with a money-back guarantee.” He throws the money back at Pulitzer. “Oh, and thank you for the lesson on the power of the press.” He grinned at Pulitzer, knowing that it would irritate him.

Pulitzer picked the paper, looking at it in disgust as one of the men, Seitz, snatched it from his hands to read it. The secretary, Hannah, read over his shoulder.

“Did you read this, boss?” Seitz said, holding the pape out. “These kids put out a pretty good paper! Very convincing.”

“No doubt written by my daughter,” Pulitzer said.

Jack sat in one of the chairs, slinging a leg over the arm. “I would sign her before some other paper grabs her.” He shrugged nonchalantly and laughed as Pulitzer threw him a glare.

“I demand to know who defied my ban on printing strike-related material,” Pulitzer said.

Jack feigned outrage. “We’re your loyal employees. We would never take our business elsewhere.”

Jack could see the exact moment the three of them pieced the situation together.

“That old printing press in the cellar,” Seitz said hesitantly.

Hannah threw them an appreciative glance, causing Jack to smile. 

Pulitzer stepped closer to him. “I gave you the offer of a lifetime. Anyone who does not act in his own self-interest is a fool.”

“What does that make you?” Davey spoke up. Pulitzer, Seitz, and Hannah looked at him, unaware of how to respond. Jack beamed at him, pride coursing through him. 

Davey continued. “This all began because you wanted to sell more papers. But now your circulation is down seventy percent. Why didn’t you just come talk to us?”

Jack scoffed. “Because guys like Joe don’t talk to nobody like us.” Jack stood up, smiling gaily at Pulitzer. “But a very wise reporter once told me bein’ a boss don’t mean you got all the answers, oh no. Just the smarts enough to snatch the right one when you hear it.”

Jack walked closer to the window, Spot and Davey standing beside him. Davey’s hand held his for a second and a burst of strength surged to Jack. Pulitzer, Hannah, and Seitz came closer.

Even up here, the clamor of the crowd below could be heard. Signages painted on clothes and spare wood were visible. The concrete street couldn’t be seen; Newsie Square was filled to the brim.

“Have a look out there, Mr. Pulitzer.” Spot leveled Pulitzer with a smirk. “In case you ain’t figured it out, we got you surrounded.”

“New York is closed for business,” Jack said, smiling. “Paralyzed. You can’t get a paper or a shoe shine. You can’t send a message, ride an elevator, cross the Brooklyn Bridge -- you can’t even get out of your own building. So, what’s your next move?”

Pulitzer barely had a moment to respond when the man on the door ran in. He yelled, “Mr. Pulitzer, the mayor is here, along with your daughter and… you’ll never believe who else!”

The mayor strode in the room, with Sarah, Katherine, and Miss Medda behind him. The women shot them an encouraging grin but they did not come any closer.

What made Jack gape was who came in after the four of them. Right behind the women,  _ Governor Theodore Roosevelt  _ stepped in.

The mayor spoke up. “Good morning, Mr. Pulitzer, I think you know the governor.”

All of them were frozen in shock as Roosevelt came closer. It was Pulitzer who managed to shake out of the surprised stupor. “Governor Roosevelt!”

“Joseph, Joseph, Joseph,” Roosevelt tutted. “What have you done now?”

“Wait until you hear my explanation --” Pulitzer started.

Roosevelt cut him off. “Thanks to Miss Medda Larkin bringing your daughter to my office, I already have a thorough grasp on the situation. Graphic illustrations included!” He shook a familiar looking roll of paper and it took Jack an embarrassingly long amount of time to recognize it was his drawings. 

Roosevelt stepped closer, shoving the drawings into Pulitzer’s chest. “‘Bully’, is the expression I usually employ to show approval, but in your case, I simply mean ‘bully’!” To Jack’s surprise, Roosevelt turned to him. “And is this the boy of whom you spoke?” He asked Katherine, who grinned and nodded.

“How are you, son?” Roosevelt said. “I was told we once shared a carriage ride!”

Jack stared at Roosevelt. If it wasn’t for Davey’s hand tapping him at the back, he would have stared at Roosevelt open mouthed. He held a hand out awkwardly. “Pleasure’s mine, Mr. Governor.”

Roosevelt shook his hand and as soon as he dropped Jack’s hand, he turned to Davey. “Oh, my God,” he muttered, ignoring Spot’s obvious glee at seeing him like this.

Davey was grinning. “Hey, hey,” he murmured and Jack calmed down.

Roosevelt, thankfully, didn’t seem to notice this. He faced Pulitzer. “Well, come along, Joe. Don’t just stand there letting those children sing endlessly, give them the good news!”

“What good news?” Pulitzer grumbled.

“That you’ve come to your senses and rolled back prices. Unless, of course,” Roosevelt added, “you want to invite a full state-centered investigation into your employment practices?”

Pulitzer stepped closer. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“After the pressure you wielded to keep me from office? I’d do it with a smile. Come along Joseph? There is one thing worse than a hard heart, and that’s a soft head. Think of the happiness you’ll bring those children.” Roosevelt paused before turning to Katherine. “He doesn’t do happiness, does he?”

Katherine stifled her smile.

Pulitzer spoke up. “Mr. Kelly, if I may speak to you alone?”

Davey threaded his hand through Jack’s, squeezing it and smiling at him before he joined his sister. The people filed out of the room, not giving Jack a glance except for Hannah, who clapped silently before leaving.

When he passed Jack, Roosevelt ducked closer. “Keep your eyes on the stars and your feet on the ground. You can do this.”

Soon the room was empty save Jack and Pulitzer. Jack watched Pulitzer as he leaned over his desk, eyes downcast.

“I cannot put the price back where it was,” Pulitzer gritted out. “I’m sorry, I can’t, there are other considerations --”

Jack stepped closer to the desk. “I get it, Joe. You have to save face in front of all these folks. I’m young. I ain’t stupid.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Kelly --”

“But I’m a constituent with a legitimate gripe!”

Pulitzer fell quiet, weighing his options. “What if I reduce the raise by half,” he said, “and get the other to do the same? It’s a compromise we can all live with.”

“But,” Jack said, remembering Davey’s words way back when he was starting out, “you eat our losses. From now on, every pape we can’t sell, you buy back full price!”

Pulitzer slammed the desk. “That’s never been on the table! And what’s to keep newsies from taking hundreds of papers they can’t sell? My costs will explode.”

Jack laughed. “No newsie is gonna break his back carryin’ around papes he can’t sell!” he exclaimed. “But if he can take a few extra and have with no risk, he might sell those and then your circulation will begin to grow!” He put on a voice. “‘It’s a compromise we can all live with’.”

Silence fell in the room. Jack could feel Pulitzer’s calculating gaze and fought to itch to fidget. “That’s not a bad head you got on your shoulders,” he admitted grudgingly.

Jack stared at him. “So,” he said, spitting on his palm and holding it out, “deal?”

Pulitzer scowled at his hand with an unconcealed disgust. “That’s disgusting,” he said. 

“Well that’s just the price of doing business.” Jack shook his hand a little, and with a grimace, Pulitzer spat on his hand. 

Jack made an extra effort to press his hand against his, maintaining a steady eye contact.

They did it.

They won.


	17. don't take much to be a dreamer

As soon as they stepped out of the  _ World’s  _ doors, the boys rushed forward. Sarah managed to get a glimpse of the closest newsie -- Race, she remembered, before Katherine grabbed her wrist and pulled her out of the way.

“What happened?” he asked David.

Spot Conlon answered him. “Jacky-boy’s gotta talk to Pulitzer one-on-one,” he said..

“You shoulda seen the crowd when  _ Roosevelt  _ rode in!” Albert yelled. The other boys cheered so loud that the rest of the crowd followed suit. The kids -- newsies and garment workers and factory workers and all of them -- cried, raising their banners up.

Sarah remembered the hushed silence full well. She could still feel the eyes that followed her and Katherine as they shouldered their way through the throng of working kids, Governor Theodore Roosevelt just behind them.

Sarah still couldn’t fathom the idea she had faced Governor Roosevelt himself, spoke on behalf of the working kids and spoke of the plights she and other women had faced just to fend for their family.

Barely a week ago she was working to the bone, legs spasming and back bent over the machine as she stitched and sewn. Now she had helped deal one of the final blows on this strike.

David turned to her and Katherine. “ _ This  _ is your ace?” he asked, awestruck. “Bring  _ Governor Theodore Roosevelt  _ here?” He shook his head, lips pulled in an impressed grin. 

Katherine beamed. “I thought I’d have a hard time with it, but Miss Medda knowing him personally helped.” The three of them turned to see the governor and Medda deep in conversation, laughing like old friends.

Les broke through the newsies, flinging himself around David’s legs. “D’ya think Jack’d do it? Help us win?”

David ruffled Les’s hair. “He’d do it,” he said, voice so fond Sarah turned to share a look with Katherine. A move she didn’t really think much about, seeing as she suddenly remembered the feel of Kath’s cheek beneath her lips, her hand woven through hers...

_ When we win this strike _ , Sarah thought.  _ Maybe then… _

Katherine’s gaze fell on someone behind Sarah. She twisted and saw Denton just on the outskirts of the crowd, pen and paper in hand. When she turned, Katherine grabbed hold of her shoulders, pulling her closer to speak into her ear.

“I’m gonna go to Denton, okay?” she said, speaking loudly in order to be heard. 

“All right!” 

Katherine pushed her away, dropping her hands and shooting her a smile before weaving her way towards Denton. Her fingertips burned on Sarah’s skin.

The boys flocked around her -- Manhattan mostly if Sarah had to guess, as she was familiar with these boys’ faces if not their names. A handful of newer faces gathered around Spot Conlon. They were cheering, hooting, and Sarah couldn’t follow much of their conversations as it overlapped. David didn’t have that problem, conversing and laughing along.

The door opened with a loud bang. 

A hush fell over the Square. Pulitzer and Jack stepped out of the building, both faces passive and unreadable.

Sarah reached out to David the same moment he did: his arm wound around Sarah’s shoulder and Sarah snaked hers around his waist. Les snuggled between the two of them. They stayed in that position, waiting for anyone of them to speak.

Jack’s eyes swept over the square. His gaze stopped near Sarah and it took her a second to realize he wasn’t looking at her but at David.

He held the gaze for a millisecond, expression barely changing except for a slight twist at the mouth. Beside her, David exhaled.

Sarah turned to her brother. “What?” she asked him.

“He did it,” David said softly. If Sarah wasn’t beside him, she wouldn’t have heard him. “Jack did it.”

Between them, Les turned around. “What?” he asked. 

Before David could answer, Jack raised his arms and the crowd, already quiet to begin with, held its breath. “Newsies of New York,” he said, expression still blank for a second before splitting into a grin. “We won!”

Around her the Square exploded in celebration. Sarah hugged Les and David as the newsies pulled each other into a hug. David himself grabbed the closest newsie, Henry if Sarah remembered correctly, and embraced him while Les bounded off to throw himself into a group hug.

Behind her, someone tapped her on the shoulder. Sarah turned around only to have Katherine Pulitzer Plumber throw herself at her. Sarah’s arms encircled Katherine’s waist and she held her closer. When Katherine pulled away, Sarah’s hold on her waist was still tight.

Katherine’s eyes were a pool of honey brown. Sarah couldn’t look away if she tried.

Someone jostled into Sarah and the spell was broken. Katherine let out a small giggle and Sarah soon was laughing along with her. 

Up on the World’s door, Jack continued. “And now, I would like to introduce my very own personal pal, Governor Theodore Roosevelt, himself.”

The crowd yelled. Roosevelt clapped Jack on the back as he took the stage.

“Each generation must, at the height of its power, step aside and invite the young to share the day,” he said. The crowd leaned in as one, eager to catch his words. “We have laid way to our world. Now, I believe the future, in your hands, will be bright and prosperous!” He stepped back and addressed Jack. “Your drawings, son, have brought another matter to end. Officers, if you please!”

A whistle blows. Heads snapped around to catch whatever was happening.

Race’s voice rose about the crowd’s clamor. “Hey, Jack, look! It’s Crutchie!”

Sarah craned her neck and saw a boy in crutches hobble towards them. The wave of relief from the boys around Sarah was palpable.

“How ya doin’, fellas?” Crutchie said amidst the yells. “Oh, and look, look what I got from yas! A gift, straight from the refuge. Bring him in, boys!”

Sarah couldn’t see much over the boys but an “ _ Ooh! _ ” from them told Sarah it’s a good development. Katherine’s hand tugging hers told her the same thing.

Race cried, “It’s Snyder the Spider!”

“What?” Sarah said the same time another newsie cried, “He ain’t so tough no more, is he?”

Up on  _ The World _ ’s doors, Roosevelt nodded, catching Jack’s openmouthed expression. “Jack, with those drawings, you made an eloquent argument for shutting down the refuge. Be assured that Mr. Snyder’s abuses will be fully investigated.” He gestured at the police. “Officers, take him away!”

Crutchie raised his hand. “Please, Your Highness,” he said, removing his cap, “may I do the honors?”

Roosevelt extended his hands. Crutchie grinned. With a victorious air, Crutchie closed the cuffs on Snyder’s wrists.

“You gotta be joking,” Snyder growled. 

Crutchie ignored him. “Yeah, and you’ll be laughing all the way to the pen, little man.” He raised his crutch and hit Snyder in the legs, laughing as the guards dragged him away. “So long, sucker!”

Jack watched the events unfolding in front of him and with a look at Roosevelt, sprinted into the group. He flung himself to Crutchie and the other boys enveloped him in a group, obscuring him from Sarah’s view. The crowd exploded in cheers.

This moment felt so magical. Katherine’s hand was still in hers, and she didn’t seem in a rush to remove it. 

“If one of your drawings convinced the Governor to close down the refuge,” Pulitzer said, and his voice carried above the cheers, “what about a daily political cartoon to expose the dealings in our own government back rooms?” He turned to Roosevelt and a heated look was exchanged. “What do you say, Teddy? Care to have this young man’s artistry shine a light behind your closed doors?”

Roosevelt stepped forward, mouth open but Jack spoke. “Hey, don’t sweat it, Gov,” he said, breaking away from the huddle. “With the strike settled, I should probably be hitting the road.”

An odd silence fell on Manhattan’s newsies. With a quick look at the group, David stepped forward. 

“Don’t you ever get tired of singing the same old tune?” David asked. “What’s Santa Fe got that New York ain’t? Tarantulas?” He shrugged, but Sarah wasn’t fooled. 

One look at Katherine told her she wasn’t fooled either.

Katherine squeezed her hand and released. She stood next to David. “Or better yet: What’s New York got that Santa Fe ain’t?”

Lastly, Crutchie stepped in. “New York’s got us, and we’re family.”

Jack’s face clouded, but before he could talk, a man in a bowler's hat yelled, “Didn’t I hear something about a strike getting settled? Papes for the newsies! Line up, boys! These papes ain’t gonna sell themselves!

The crowd dispersed, and a few newsies from other boroughs came to chat with Manhattan. Jack broke away from the group. 

David’s eyes followed Jack, but he sighed and held Les closer. Without thinking, Sarah stepped in Jack’s way.

“You’ve got a union to run,” she said.

Jack frowned. “Sarah, I --”

“Besides,” Katherine interrupted, and Sarah smiled, “didn’t someone just offer you a pretty exciting job?”

“You mean working for your father?”

“You already work for my father,” Katherine deadpanned.

“Oh. Yeah.”

Katherine stood next to Sarah, Her shoulders were touching Sarah’s. “And you’ve got one more ace up your sleeve.”

“And what would that be?” Jack asked.

Katherine nudged her head behind her, where David stood. He was bending over to meet Les’s eyes, talking in low voices. When Sarah whipped around, she caught the conflicted emotions flickering on Jack’s face.

Sarah did not understand the full complexity of Jack’s need to pack up and leave but she did know how much it would break the boys. How much it would break David.

She only needed one look at Jack to know leaving would break him, too.

“The newsies will be here,” Sarah said. “Me. Katherine. We’ll be by your side, you know. You don’t have to go.”

Katherine smiled. “Go on. Talk to him.”

Jack looked at Katherine then at Sarah. “You both should take your own advice, then,” he muttered. 

Sarah flushed. She didn’t look at Katherine as she pushed Jack toward David. “Talk to him. Don’t break my brother’s heart!”

Jack rolled his eyes but he nodded all the same. Throwing both of them a small smile, he jogged toward David.

Then it was just her and Katherine. Kathy, who was staring at everywhere but Sarah.

_ When we win this strike _ , Sarah remembered her promise. 

She took a deep breath. “Well, we should take Jack’s advice, shouldn’t we.”

Katherine faltered. Sarah matched Katherine’s surprised gaze with an even stare; she was nothing if not factual, and she got her facts straight.

“Am I reading this wrong?” she said, even though she’s sure she’s not.

Katherine shook her head. “No, no, I...”she laughed. “Well, I was going to say something when we get out of the Square. You beat me to it, Sarah Jacobs.”

Sarah shrugged, smiling. “We just can’t let them one up us.”

Katherine flexed her fingers, and slowly reached out to intertwine their fingers. “Of course not.”

Sarah tightened her hold on Katherine’s hand as they turned to leave the Square. Their hands hang in the space between them. 

All the thoughts left Sarah’s head. It’s just Katherine’s hands, Katherine’s smiles, Katherine, Katherine, Katherine.

Sarah slowed down her steps and she could feel Katherine did too but  _ The Sun _ ’s office emerged around the corner quicker than Sarah hoped.

Katherine’s hand still held hers. She didn’t let go, so Sarah didn’t.

“I’ll see you later?” Katherine hesitated. Her hold tightened.

“Yeah,” Sarah said. She could stare at Katherine forever in this light. 

Then Katherine leaned in. Sarah could see her half-closed eyes, her eyelashes. Her breath fanned Sarah’s face for a second. Katherine’s lips hovered an inch from Sarah’s and almost imperceptibly, Katherine cocked her head in question. 

Sarah answered her question by closing the gap.

The kiss was short but Sarah had it memorized the second Katherine pulled away. The softness of her lips, the trace of her smile against Sarah’s own grin…

“I’ll see you later.” With a grin, Katherine squeezed Sarah’s arm before entering the office.

When Katherine looked back, Sarah was still staring at her. Her kiss still warmed Sarah’s lips.

_ See you later. _

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Is Jack staying?”

David looked down at Les, who was staring ahead with determination. He was bracing himself for the answer, David noted.

“That’s up for Jack to decide,” David replied. He ignored the words that left Jack’s lips minutes ago, ignored the way it left him hollow.

Les sighed but he didn’t seem surprised. When did Les grow up so quickly? “I wish he’d stay,” he said.

“Me, too.”

Up ahead, Weasel was distributing their paper. David stood behind Specs, letting the boys’ chatter flow over him. 

They won, so why did it feel like failure?

_ Pyrrhic victory _ . David had learned of this phrase in school but he never really understood the meaning. Now he did.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder. It was Jack. “Davey,” he said, “can I talk to you for a bit?”

Les tugged at David’s sleeve, shrugging lightly. David got the message and so did Specs; his hands landed on Les’s shoulder, giving David a small nod.

David followed Jack into the outskirts of the group. He waited for Jack to say something, but he didn’t. He was staring at his feet, avoiding David’s gaze.

“You gonna say goodbye?” David said, failing to keep the bitterness off his voice. “Make it quick.”

Jack didn’t reply. 

“Jack,” David continued. “I’m trying not to make this harder. If you’re gonna leave --”

“I don’t want to.” The words rushed out of him, halting the slew of words that threaten to spill over David’s lips.

Relief flooded David. “Then don’t.”

Jack shook his head. “It ain’t that easy, I --” he paused. It took David every bit of restraint to keep himself from reaching out to hold him. Jack needed the space, the moment to process. “But I don’t know what I am without Santa Fe,” he whispered.

Davey was undeterred. “I know what you are without Santa Fe,” he said. Jack’s head whipped towards him. “Race and Crutchie and all the boys know who you are without Santa Fe. And they’d agree with me that you’re brave, and smart, and reckless, and you’re wonderful.”

“Davey --”

“It’s true, and don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

Jack shook his head. “I betrayed them.”

“And they forgave you,” David said. “Isn’t that enough? You don’t have to keep punishing yourself.”

Jack took a deep breath. “I’m -- I’m scared,” he admitted, avoiding Davey’s eyes. “When all this ends, you’s gonna go back to school. Your pa’s gonna get better and you’ll leave. You ain’t gonna have time for this and maybe ya shouldn’t.”

David threw all caution in the wind; he stepped closer and held Jack’s hands. Jack’s gaze fell on their intertwined fingers. “What are you talking about? I’m staying, okay? I mean it. I’m staying ‘long as you’ll have me.”

“Don’t go promisin’ things you’re takin’ back tomorrow.”

David squeezed their hands. “I’m not. Yes,” he continued, cutting off Jack’s retort, “I’m going to go back to school but I’ll make time for this. For the guys. For you.” One more squeeze. “Because I love you.”

At this, Jack looked up. “You do?”

David could feel a smile spread on his face. “For sure.”

Jack’s thumb rubbed over David’s fingers. “I love you too,” he whispered.

David could stay in here forever, hands holding Jack’s but -- “You still got a union to run,” he told him. “So, are you in or are you out?”

Jack’s grin was an answer enough. David could feel the smile on his own face grow bigger.

Hand-in-hand, he and Jack fell back in line. This moment felt like it warranted applause so loud it rocked New York to the ground, but it didn’t matter. Right here, right now, holding Jack’s hand was momentous enough.

Jack was here. Jack was staying. It’s okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no idea how to end stuff but thank you so much for staying with me through this journey. it's been a blast!


End file.
